Sins of the father
by electric violinist
Summary: After the sting of another betrayal from Brendan, Ste tries to move on, but will Brendan let him?  Sequel to Father Figures.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Finally bowed to requests. I didn't want to do this until I had a proper idea for where to go next. But here it is, the sequel to Father Figure. **

**It will make absolutely no sense unless you read that one first.**

**I hope you enjoy. Please review.**

Amy heard the door bang open then closed again.

On the one hand, Ste had said he'd probably be working until late to start catching up on all the time he'd missed.

On the other hand, she hadn't really expected that to happen.

"You alright?" she called.

"I don't wanna talk about it," came the response in a tone of voice she'd used regularly on her family as a teenager. She supposed Ste had never really had the sort of family where you could use that tone of voice, but probably while coping with two children and no job wasn't the best time to discover it.

"Alright," she offered.

Ste barged towards his bedroom. Then turned and proclaimed; "He lied to Cheryl!"

Amy sighed. "Yeah," she said, her voice non-committal.

"Yeah!" Ste cried, "he knows what happened, right, he knows I never lied to the police, and then he goes 'I don't know, I wasn't there' like."

"Right," Amy said, aware that he all Ste wanted right now was a sign she was listening. She decided to keep her distinct lack of surprise to herself.

"So, right, she's sacking me, and he's not even standing up for me!"

"He let her sack you?" Amy checked. That would be a problem, they had kids to feed.

"Well, no, right, he said I wasn't sacked, but she thinks I lied, right, that I'd make up something like that!"

"So, erm…" Amy hesitated, not wanting to undermine what Ste had been through, but still mostly concerned about how quickly Lucas was getting through shoes at the moment, "you've still got a job?"

Ste stopped his rant, "No, I quit."

Amy sighed again, "Right"

Ste put his head in his hands, "I'm sorry Ames, I'll get another job, but I can't work there, with them."

"I know," replied Amy, and she did understand. It just didn't pay the gas bill that she'd spotted in the letter box.

"I'll get another job, right?"

"I know," Amy assured, "it's just… you might need to be quick. Cheryl might…" she hesitated.

"What?"

"Cheryl might… tell everyone."

Ste paled. "Oh."

"Just in the village." Amy assured.

"Yeah." Ste did not sound fully appeased by that.

"You might just….need to look a bit ….further afield." Amy finished lamely.

"Yeah." Ste finished lamely.

The crashing on the door made them both jump.

"Steven! Steven! Open up! Let me in!"

"Brendan," Ste said, unnecessarily.

"What do you want to do?" asked Amy.

"Ignore him!"

"He might have come to apologise," Amy suggested.

Ste actually snorted at that.

"Yeah, and then he'll sing me a love song and propose!"

Ste glanced at the door. When he looked back, Amy thought she could see tears in his eyes.

"I can't…" he stumbled, "I just… can't…"

Amy nodded. "Alright," she said again, "Go through, I'll tell him where to go."

Ste gave her a look of pure gratitude, before hurrying into his bedroom and shutting the door. Amy let the unwanted visitor pound on the door for a few moments longer before she leaned against the wall by the door and called; "He's not going to talk to you Brendan."

The banging stopped. "Amy!" Brendan's voice was so loud he could have been next to her rather than on the other side of a door, "Amy, I need to see him. I need to explain!" his voice sounded desperate.

"He doesn't want talk to you, Brendan, and he's not going to change his mind just because you're banging on the door like a bull!"

Brendan's first response was anger, "I'm not…" he started shouting, but he cut himself off. "Look, Amy, I need to explain why I did what I did. Please, Amy!"

"You can't explain this away, Brendan," she replied, calmly, "you've really hurt him this time."

Amy felt genuinely sad at that. She'd let herself hope Brendan had changed, that he could love and care for someone, after all, Ste had managed it.

"Amy, just let me in so I can explain, I'm not going to hurt him, I just… please."

Amy sighed. "I can't Brendan. We can't."

"Amy, trust me."

She felt tears sting her eyes, "He will never trust you again."

There was a silence from outside. Then suddenly a howl like a wounded animal ripped the air and the door actually rattled against its hinges, presumably from the force of the kicks that were now raining down upon it. Amy almost screamed. Ste ran out of his room, pushed her behind him and shouted "Brendan, if you don't leave now I'm calling the police! I mean it!"

The pounding on the door ceased, but Amy could hear more crashes as Brendan, she guessed, took his anger out on whatever else he could get his hands of feet on. They heard Jacqui's voice from the floor above.

"Oi, get lost, you crazy bastard!"

"Shut up!" Brendan screamed, "Shut it!"

"I ain't the one making all the noise, you nutter!"

Brendan roared again, and must have thrown something at the ground, as a a sound of smashing was heard. "I'm not giving up, Steven!" he shouted, and as he stormed off, Amy felt a wave of anxiety pass through her. She glanced at Ste, but he didn't look much better.

"Good riddance," they heard Jacqui shout from upstairs.

"Do you think he meant…"

Amy's question hung in the air, even as she cursed herself for asking it. Ste needed her not to be worried about this, to be strong and down to Earth. "He won't hurt you again," she added, trying to make up for it, "He can't, can he? He knows you'll go to the police."

"Yeah," Ste replied, bitterly, "and that they won't believe me."

"They will!" Amy assured, "because I can be a witness for you about him."

She could see the thought process in Ste's mind. Witnesses, evidence, trial, what would inevitably be brought up against Ste. It was a weak argument. It would be a miracle if any trial went Ste's way, and on the way he'd be painted as a real villain. All Amy'd just done was remind Ste of how few escape routes he had left.

She just had to hope Brendan really did love him, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

….x…

It was only when the early evening rush started that Cheryl realised she was ridiculously understaffed. And that she, as the only thing resembling a manager on site, was in charge of everything that went wrong. Which was suddenly a lot; from bulbs out in the ladies loos to problems with the last drinks delivery, to the DJ calling in sick. She grabbed her phone, leaving a sternly worded message for Brendan, before calling Rhys and begging him to come in for an extra shift. He seemed reluctant, and asked if she was expecting Brendan, making her admit angrily that it was Because she didn't know where Brendan was that she needed Rhys.

"Oh, I can tell you that," he said, darkly, "he's been bashing on Ste and Amy's front door and destroying our pot plants.

Cheryl humphed, "Well, so he should be after what that little bastard did!" she said angrily, "did you hear how he accused our Da of all sorts of nonsense. No wonder Bren's furious, eh?"

"Yeah, alright Chez, but they've got two little kids, haven't they? He must have scared them to death!"

Cheryl blanched, "Look, can you get in or not?"

"Yeah, alright" Rhys replied, "but you've got to give me a minute to find someone to look after our Terry."

"Thank you!" Cheryl exclaimed, before ending the call and throwing her phone down onto the bar.

The upper door slammed open and closed. She galloped up as quickly as her heels would allow her and just glimpsed her brother dive into the office.

Making to follow him, she strode towards the office, but the second she opened the door she regretted it as a filing cabinet crashed as it hit the floor less than a foot from her toes.

"Jesus!" she screeched.

"What do you want?" her brother bellowed at her in a tone of voice she'd never heard directed at her before.

"Brendan…"

"Just get out, Cheryl!"

"But…"

"I said GET OUT!"

His face seemed mad, like he'd been possessed by the devil. She flinched at the sight. Brendan didn't pause a moment longer though; an innocent mug that had sat on the desk hit the wall, smashing into a hundred pieces. It was followed by a folder. Cheryl shut the door before she became part of the violence.

She felt furious at Ste. How dare he say something so awful about their Dad? So Brendan hadn't always got on with him, but Cheryl knew her father was a lovely, kind, gentle man, who loved his family, and would never hurt anyone like that. She could understand why Brendan was taking this so badly. He'd never shown such care for anyone before Ste. She'd even believed they were in love. Well, maybe Brendan was, but that boy was disgusting and didn't deserve Bredan's care.

She could get revenge for her wonderful brother and loving father though. The next place Ste would try for a job was obvious.

She rang Nancy, who would pass it on to Darren and Jack. Then she rang Tony, just to be sure, but she didn't think he would have considered Ste anyway, after he stole from him. She should have seen it then really.

That only left Price Slice and the SU bar now that Cinergy was gone. Brendan had the contacts for the bar, but that would be hard as she didn't know them well. Price Slice would also be tricky, but let him try, she thought. She could make his life a misery if he got a job at either. And it would mean spreading the news of his treachery even further afield, a thought that gave her a small, satisfied feeling.

She smiled to herself. She would welcome the challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN Just to reassure everyone, I adore Stendan, and they are the pairing on this story for a reason, though I understand if it's not obvious at the moment. **

**Though I adore Stendan kissy bits, the everlasting angst is still part of the draw for me. Angsty sexy Stendan times forever. We wish.**

_Four months later_

Walking home, Ste could barely believe his own memories.

He'd known he would breeze the cooking challenge, after all, he'd had nothing to do but practice for the past four months, but he'd been worried about the interview. He couldn't remember ever getting a job from an interview before, though he'd lost some through his attitude and temper, which hadn't exactly filled him with confidence. But this Guy, Pierre Lelann, had been impressed enough by his cooking and love of food that Ste hadn't even had a chance to be sassy. The two of them had only talked about cooking, and had actually discussed it like equals. Ste didn't think he'd ever had such a chat before.

He didn't bother looking for his key. The second his foot touched the doorstep, the door flew open. Amy's pale face stared anxiously at him from the hall.

He wondered how mean it would be to hold the information for a bit longer. He decided not to.

"I got it," he said, shock still obvious in his voice.

Amy squealed, and threw her arms around his neck, "Oh, Ste, that's brilliant!" She squeaked.

"I know," he said, returning the hug, "I can't believe it! I mean, the money's crap and the hours are almost as bad as Chez Chez, but we can get Leah that dress she loved so much now. And Lucas can have them shoes!"

"I'm so proud of you, Ste!" Amy giggled, "You're so strong! You know that, don't you?"

"Ames!" he groaned, embarrassed.

"It's true, ste, and don't you forget it!" She finally let him go, and was ushering him inside when Jacquie, who seemed just to be on her way out, called out, "Hey, what's all this celebration, ey, you two?"

"Do you want to tell her or can I?" Amy asked, almost bouncing on the spot.

"Go on," Ste grinned, "you look like you might explode if you don't!"

Amy didn't need telling twice. "Ste got the job!"

"Aw, that's great news, Ste. Congratulations!" Jacqui seemed genuinely pleased for him. She had been great. The moment the gossip had started spreading, she'd been straight over, expressing solidarity and support. "Look, I've got a shift at the Dog in a bit, why don't you two pop in? I'll see if I can wing you a drink on the house."

"Thanks, Jaq, but we've got no one to look after the kids tonight," Ste put in, before Amy could get too excited.

"Oh, we'll find someone, misery guts!"Amy exclaimed anyway, "we'll see you there Jacquie. Thanks!"

"Great, see ya!" Jacquie strolled off, and Ste and Amy shouted their farewell before trotting inside, Amy still giddy and Ste still gobsmacked.

* * *

><p>As usual, the Dog was a normal weeknight quiet. A few faces greeted them, but mostly there was a stony indifference. Maybe from more people than there should have been; from people Ste knew who wouldn't have thought twice about greeting him a few months ago. Cheryl's hate campaign had been fruitful, and if Brendan hadn't been so unpopular, may have turned out completely successfully.<p>

Jacquie, though, was all smiles as they approached the bar.

"There he is, the next Jamie Oliver. What'll it be?"

Ste and Amy ordered, and Jacquie, as promised, waved away their money. They drank, and chatted easily for the first time in months. A bunch of new students were sat on the next table, and quickly a tall man with fair hair invited them to join them.

The conversation was rowdy. The group was reasonably new, and drinking contests seemed to be the order of the day, despite the fact that it was a Tuesday and that rounds at the Dog were noticeably more than at the SU bar. Ste found he stopped caring after the fourth round was brought by one of the students whose name he had't even found out yet.

The guy next to him was cute. Tall, fair hair, rich voice. Ste found himself smiling more than he could ever remember, laughing out loud at the stupidest things. He was fun. Ste vaguely remembered this was the guy who had invited them over.

"So, what's this new job that's got you all excited then?" the lad asked in a friendly way.

"Sous-chef in a great new restaurant in Chester. I'm dead lucky to get it," Ste replied casually, finding his eyes drawn to the guys Adam's apple as it bobbed with his drink.

"Amazing! That's brilliant!" the guy sounded genuinely enthusiastic, "You know, I love a man who can cook. That sense of timing and dexterous hands. Gets me all over-excited." He grinned.

Ste floundered slightly, was that a come-on? Some of the other students thought it was, obviously, as a few wolf whistles were flung at his words. Ste blushed, and had some more to drink.

"This looks cosy," said a voice behind Ste. An all too familiar one.

The students, a bit far gone, and obviously not up to speed on safe drinking partners in the village, did the last thing Ste wanted them to, and invited Brendan to take a seat.

"Well, no offence, boys and girls, but I'd rather stab pins in my eyes than sit with a bunch of students."

"There's no need to be rude, Brendan," Amy scolded, as though he were a child. Ste wondered if she was affected by the alcohol as he was.

"Is there not Amy? No need to be rude? Now, that's interesting. What do you think, Steven? Is there reason for me to be rude to your new…" his eyes scanned the lad on Ste's left, "friends?"

Ste hadn't even turned at the sound of Brendan's voice. Now it made him grit his teeth. He realised a few of the students were looking at him in confusion. He forced his body to relax, then leant an elbow on the table in front of him, his cheek on his hand as he'd seen Mercedes do once or twice. "What about you then? What are you studying?" he asked the lad on his left.

He probably looked like a fool to everyone, but he got his point across. Brendan meant nothing to him now. He didn't even listen to him.

If only that was really going on in his head.

The student looked between them puzzled for a moment, then answered, "Accountancy. It's dull as shit but it should make me a packet when I graduate."

"Aw, that sounds awesome. I'm rubbish at budgeting and stuff me." Ste said with genuine enthusiasm. Conversations were restarting all around the table. Ste could imagine Brendan's face at the snub, but it didn't give him the pleasure he knew it should.

The same could not be said of Amy, who waved and almost sang "Bye Brendan!"

* * *

><p>The evening passed, and seemed like minutes before it was time for the members of the group who had left a babysitter with their two small children to get home. Ste had almost started to excuse himself when the guy he'd spent most of the night chatting to stopped him.<p>

"Hang on, you haven't given me your number."

Ste hesitated. On the one hand, this guy was cute. He could imagine tangling his hands into that mess of hair easy as pie. On the other, calling his last relationship dysfunctional would be the understatement of the century. He didn't know if he trusted his own taste in men.

He didn't know if he ever wanted to have a taste in men again.

"Erm, I've just got to pop to the loo, I'm not going just yet." It wasn't a lie, but it did delay the answering of the request.

He nipped in to the empty pub toilets. A couple of guys were already there using the urinals, so Ste decided to use the stall.

He heard the blokes leave and as he finished himself, he realised he still didn't have a decision about the student.

He flushed, sighed and made his way out to wash his hands.

The toilets were empty except for one man. Obviously.

"Steven," Brendan greeted as he leaned against the door.

"Brendan," Ste replied, and wondered over to the sink to wash his hands.

For someone who had clearly engineered a private meeting, Brendan did not seem keen to actually talk. Ste realised he did need to say something. Hopefully it would be the last time necessary.

"Thanks for the reference, I got the job."

Brendan made a noise in his throat. "Yeah, bully for you."

Ste rolled his eyes. Last time he'd pretend to be civil. "Did you want something Brendan?"

The older man rolled his neck, then fixed Ste with the predatory gaze that usually made him want to jump onto the nearest flat surface with him. Or just surface of any kind really, it didn't have to be particularly flat. But Ste knew he couldn't let it affect him now.

He only knew two modes when it came to Brendan, though; shag or wind up. He went for the latter. "Bit of a cliché for you, in't it? A public toilet? People'll start talking. Oh, no, they already have, haven't they?"

Brendan didn't seem as affected by that as he would have been once. Instead he pushed off from the door, and walked calmly towards Ste. Ste didn't back off, but he did subtly judge the distance to the door, and the space available to get past Brendan. Neither looked promising. Was Brendan really angry at being ignored? He didn't have the right to be.

"Or you just becoming a full time stalker now?"

"Steven!" Brendan's voice was low. Ste had always had problems telling apart his warnings from his seductions.

Brendan trapped him against the sink.

"Get out of my way," Ste ordered, proud as his voice sounded much calmer than he felt.

"Steven," Brendan said again, "why are you still lying to yourself? It's been months."

"Yeah, months of being turned down for jobs I could do with my eyes closed thanks to you and your Cheryl."

Brendan flinched. Then shushed him. "Steven," he said again, "you know you can't resist this any more than I can. It's out of our control now. Just… just accept it, yeah?"

"Er, no!" Ste said, again proud to keep all signs of unwanted desire or fear out of his voice.

"Oh, come on, Steven," Brendan continued, "you need me. I need you! We can't do anything else. It's like we're tied together or something. We couldn't escape if we wanted it to."

Ste was speechless.

"Come on, you know it'll happen eventually," Brendan continued, "come on."

Ste shook his head slightly, "I gotta go,"

Brendan put his hands around Ste's waist.

"Come on, you've just got to feel it."

Then Brendan kissed him.

It was uninvited and unwanted, and though it felt in many ways like a glorious homecoming, in the major way it reminded Ste of a different kiss, in a dark alley, with a man he still had nightmares about.

He pushed at Brendan's chest. Brendan didn't stop. Ste felt a sense of panic, and shoved harder. "No!" he managed to shout.

Brendan stumbled back, surprise all over his face.

"Like father like son, eh?" Ste hissed.

"I'm nothing…"

"Cos that's nothing like what he would do is it?"

"Steven, I'd never…"

"Get lost, get out of my life, I never want to see you again. Do you understand?"

"Steven…"

"Do you understand?" Ste shouted this time. Brendan didn't answer, so Ste shoved past him and back to the bar.

He spotted the students and Amy waiting for him. He heard the door behind him open again as he purposefully strode towards the handsome student. He put his hand on the other man's arm, put his face close and whispered. "If you can find my restaurant by the end of the week, I'll let you buy me dinner." He leant forward and planted a kiss at the edge of the young man's lips. Chased. Sweet.

Nothing like Brendan.

Then he joined Amy at the door and followed her out without a backward glance.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Short chapter.**

First day with a hangover. That was not Ste's greatest move to date. He'd forgotten how hot and stressful professional kitchens got.

He was lucky; the restaurant was quiet. They were opening for a couple of nights before the grand opening on Saturday, as a sort of series of trial runs. Without any publicity yet, the restaurant had very few patrons. The odd journalist had been invited so reviews would be out in time for the opening, though, so Ste kept his head down in case any of them were Nancy. She'd been quite vocal when she overheard Ste asking Jack about jobs.

He was working on raspberry soufflés, a challenge he loved for timing and precision, when one of the waiters sidled up to him, and said loudly; "Hey, Ste, there's a bloke out there who wants to compliment the soufflés."

Ste looked at him with confusion, "You what?"

"Some bloke wants to compliment the soufflé, by which I assume he means the bloke who's been making the soufflé." Ste must have still looked confused, because he added "they want to say well done to you."

"Oh, right," said Ste, shoving around some soufflés, "Er…" he looked around for a way out. Another sous-chef offered to help him out as long as he was no more than a minute. "Thanks," he said, and cautiously made his way into the dining area.

The difference in volume was out of this world, and the difference in temperature even bigger. Ste looked nervously around. The waiter who'd passed on the message put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Table nine. And his exact words were 'Can I see the sous –chef? The one with mousy hair and a gorgeous arse.' You've got one minute. I'm timing you!" The waiter winked and walked off as Ste spotted the student from last night.

He wished he'd remembered the guy's name.

The student grinned and waved. Ste trotted over.

"Hi," he said.

"Alright," Ste replied, "Er, what are you doing here?"

The student grinned, smugly this time, "I seem to remember a promise that if I found out where you worked, you'd let me buy you dinner."

Ste flushed, slightly touched that this guy he barely knew would go so far out of his way just to find him. "I did promise that, didn't !" he replied, coyly.

"So…" the student continued, "I might be here to collect my winnings…"

"Oh , yeah?" Ste said, struggling to keep the smile out of his voice.

"Yeah," confirmed the student, confidently, then added, in far more ordinary tones, "if that's OK with you?"

"Yeah, that's great by me," Ste replied, "but not right now, though, 'cause I'm working."

"Yes, I thought you might be," the student replied, "so I put my phone number on this napkin," he handed Ste a paper napkin with a logo of a fast food shop down the road. "I thought you might object if I wrote on one of these ones," he smiled, gesturing at the perfectly folded cloths on his table. "I even put my name on it, in case you'd forgotten."

Ste looked down, and there it was, 'Michael,' and a mobile number.

"Thanks," he said.

"Ste" one of the waiters had snuck up on them, "you've had your minute, mate!"

"I gotta go," Ste told the student, Michael.

"Will you call me, though?" the student asked.

"If you're lucky," Ste called over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen. He heard the quiet "yes!" of celebration from behind him and grinned as he went back to his soufflés.

* * *

><p>No major disasters, a number of compliments (most of them real) and the phone number of a very attractive man. In all, not a bad first day. Ste grinned as he got a bus home.<p>

Of course, the kids were in bed when he arrived, but Amy had waited up, and asked him all about his first day. He told her all the work details, then showed her the phone number.

"I thought you worked at Lelann's?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah, course," Ste replied, "Michael said he thought I wouldn't like him writing on one of them posh ones."

Amy grinned, "Was it the guy from last night? The one who you were flirting with?"

"Yeah," Ste replied happily, then interrupted himself, "but he flirted with me first!"

"Oh, you sly dog!" Amy shrieked, "Have you called him yet?"

"No, I've only just got in!"

"Well get on with it then! He's a student, there's no way he'll be in bed yet."

"Right," Ste said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, then just stared at it for a while. "Er, do you… er…" Ste paused, unsure of how to phrase the question.

"Do I what?" asked Amy, who had already got up to go to bed. When Ste didn't talk for a bit, she said "Spit it out, Ste, you know Leah will be jumping on me at six tomorrow! I've got to get to bed!"

"Do you think this is a good idea? I'm not famed for my taste in men, am I? I mean, I told Brendan his Dad seemed like a nice bloke."

Amy sighed. "You've got two choices, Ste. Either you can swear off men completely, live with just me and the kids forever, never getting a shag, or you can take a risk, and hope it will pay off." She studied him carefully, and he let her. She knew him too well though. "Or are you waiting until you can let yourself fall back into Brendan's arms again?"

Ste shivered. Surely that wasn't what he wanted? But the fact she'd used the word 'let' rather than 'choose' spoke volumes.

"What did you think of him?" he asked.

"Ha!" Amy laughed, "you're asking me? Really? With my track record? You, Josh, Ollie, really?"

"Lee was alright," Ste said, finding himself jumping to defend Amy.

"Yeah," she said, sadly, "sort of. Bit of a kid, I suppose."

Ste looked at her and thought. The best way he knew of keeping away from Brendan was probably dating someone else. "I'll give Michael a call." He said.

Amy smiled. "Go for it!"


	4. Chapter 4

The restaurant was closed on Friday night for some finishing touches to the decor that Ste wasn't involved in. Ste was relieved he'd managed to find such a good day for this first date.

Date. What an odd word. He'd used it once or twice about Noah, but it never quite seemed real. Well, not much of that relationship had ever seemed real exactly. And of course, nothing Brendan ever did seemed like a date. Instead it had all felt like a miserable test of each other's boundaries. Had Brendan learnt to cope with his sexuality yet? Could Brendan control his temper? Could Brendan let their relationship be about anything more than sex yet?

Ste shook himself. If he compared everything to Brendan in his head he'd never get over the man.

He dressed smartly; new shirt, smart trousers, clean black shoes, then spent a lot of time on his hair. When he left the flat he felt quite confident. By the time he arrived at the Dog, he felt as nervous as he had before his interview.

As soon as he opened the door, he snuck to the toilet to check his hair in the mirror.

His date had beaten him to it.

"Er, hi," he greeted, awkwardly.

"Hi," Michael replied, one hand on the collar of his shirt, which he'd obviously just been adjusting.

They both stood for a moment. Should they kiss? Was that weird? In a toilet?

Thankfully, Michael took the lead. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll go out there, sit at a table, and when you're ready, we'll pretend it's the first time we saw each other tonight. Deal?"

"Deal," agreed Ste with a grateful grin.

"Good," said Michael, and off he went.

There wasn't much point now in changing his hair, but Ste tidied it a little anyway, then did a general inspection in the mirror. Not bad. Not Robert Pattinson, but not bad.

Casually as he could manage, he made his way out to the area that served food. True to his word, Michael had got them a table, and when he spotted Ste, did a good impression of a relieved person.

"Thank God," he said, "I was just getting an irrational fear that I'd been stood up!"

Ste laughed and sat down, the air clear.

"So, Ste," Michael continued, "the other night, you were going on about someone called Leah and someone called Lucas, and how they light up your life. I was hoping you might like to, er, tell me who they were?"

"Oh," Ste felt a twist of worry. Two kids didn't exactly add to his attraction, "They're me kids."

"Oh," Michael replied slowly, a twinge of worry in his voice, "right." He seemed to be thinking deeply, mulling over the information.

"Yeah," said Ste, awaiting the blow of finality – the relationship ending before it had even begun.

"I mean," Michael continued, "I thought you were older than me, but I mean, two kids?"

"I'm only twenty-two!" Ste complained.

But Michael was grinning. "I might have been winding you up just then. I'm quite good at guessing ages."

"Oh, very funny," mumbled Ste, stabbing a complimentary bread roll with his knife.

"But… two kids? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, "and I love them to bits, and nothing will ever change that, so if you have a problem, we'll just leave it there, yeah?"

He got up.

"Sit down, Ste," Michael ordered, "I didn't say I didn't still want to… you know… But I'm only twenty, yeah?"

Ste sighed.

"I mean there can't be hundreds of blokes lining up for that, can there?"

"I s'pose," Ste agreed, sitting back down, though he did understand really. He thought about all the stuff he could have done at twenty if he hadn't had the kids to worry about.

Michael frowned, obviously still considering it all. After a silence, he asked "So, how were your first few days?"

Ste smiled. "They were great. I mean, I was proper hung over on that first day, after that night in here with you lot, but it was fine."

"I'm pleased," Michael smiled.

"And then," Ste continued, his grin turning cheeky, "this handsome bloke wrote his number on a napkin, and made an excuse to see me. That was quite nice."

"Hmm, should I be jealous?" Michael growled.

"No! It was you!" said Ste, frowning.

"I know, I was playing along," Michael laughed.

"Oh, right, yeah, course, I knew that."

"Are you always this slow?" Michael grinned.

"No," replied Ste, "just a bit nervous, aren't I? First date and all that."

"'Course you are," said Michael, "I mean, it's a date with me." He indicated his body, which Ste, admittedly, couldn't find fault with.

"Bit full of yourself aren't ye?" he laughed.

"Ah, who likes false modesty, ey?" Michael countered with a smirk.

Ste laughed out loud, attracting a few glances from the other side of the room.

Michael smiled, and picked up his menu. "Have you chosen anything yet?" he asked.

"No, sorry, I haven't even looked," Ste replied, honestly,

"Well, I've got my on the lasagne. Shall I just order us both one of them?"

"Alright," Ste replied, happy to go along with it.

"And a pint of larger, yeah?"

Ste remembered that's what he'd been drinking the night they met. "Sure, thanks," he replied, and appreciatively checked out Michael's arse as he made his way to the bar to order.

When Michael returned he made a joke about Jack not understanding his London accent, and then Ste asked him how he found the restaurant.

"Oh, I just looked through all the newspapers from the last few weeks, checking all the job sections. Then I cross checked that against new restaurants opening in the area."

Ste felt his eyes widen, "You did all that for me?" he asked.

"No, you doughnut, I asked that Jacquie that was behind the bar that night!"

"Oh," Ste replied laughing.

The whole evening went like that; laughter all the way, with Michael leading most of the conversation. He was no work at all, and Ste had a better time than he'd ever imagined. They were just laughing over a story about Michael's first day at college, when it all went wrong.

Ste saw the tall, purposeful figure striding towards their table in the corner of his eye. At first, his brain refused to acknowledge it. Surely, nothing so horrible could be happening on such a nice evening.

"This looks cosy," said the harsh Irish voice.

"Excuse me?" Michael looked confused.

"Cheryl…" Ste started.

"I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for, mate!" Cheryl didn't even look at Ste, but glared at Michael, the power of a thousand perceived evils in her expression.

"Who are you?" Michael asked, not entirely politely.

"Cheryl, please…" Ste protesting, hated how pathetic his voice sounded.

"I'm the daughter of the man whose life he ruined."

"What?"

Ste put his head in his hands.

"This two-faced, son of a bitch lied to the police, told them my father had tried to rape him. Of course they saw through it, saw him for the lying little shit he actually is, as you will too, and soon if you've got any sense."

"I never lied, Cheryl!" Ste insisted, but after months of the same accusations, he barely had the power to defend himself any more.

"Don't you talk to me!" She snapped at him, then turned back to Michael. "I'd run a mile if I were you, mate, you never know when he'll string you up."

There was a moment's pause. Then Michael said, "I'm not your mate."

"Excuse me?" Cheryl exclaimed.

"I said I'm not your mate." Michael stated, "and I was having a very nice meal before you showed up and started giving it all that."

Ste opened his eyes in amazement.

Michael looked at Cheryl expectantly for a few minutes more. "Thanks for the warning, now maybe you could leave us to it?"

Covering Cheryl's face was an expression of pure shock that made Ste feel more satisfied than he would have admitted to anyone. As she still didn't walk away, Michael added "Bye then."

"Fine," said Cheryl with bravado, "don't say I didn't warn you."

Then she stalked off.

Ste looked back at Michael, grin at the ready, thanks on his lips, but Michael wasn't smiling. Ste felt all the briefly lived relief pour out of his system.

The student tapped his hand against the table. It seemed an age before he finally spoke.

"So," he said, slowly and carefully, "was any of what she just said true?"

"Er," Ste hesitated, "bits of it. Not the bit about me lying. I never lied."

"But you grassed her Dad up?"

"No!" Ste cried, that sounded an awful thing to do.

"You didn't go to the police?"

"No, I mean," Ste was flustered, getting the words out, "I did, right, go to the police, but only because of what he did."

"Hmm," Michael looked him dead in the eye. Ste felt like a kid caught out by a favourite teacher. "And what did her father do, Ste?"

Ste froze, shame burning through him, however wrong he knew it was to be ashamed. He couldn't help it.

"Ste?"

He couldn't answer. He didn't know how.

Michael sighed. "Look, Ste, I really don't know if I'm up for all this, I mean, kids, mysterious pasts, flying accusations, lies… I just, I really don't know if it's worth it."

Ste felt the sting. Michael didn't know if Ste was worth all the aggravation.

Michael put his fork down, "I'll just go…"

"Wait!" In that movement Ste had seen his last chance of happiness flutter away from him. He couldn't end up sad and alone. Michael could be the last decent man who'd ever give him the time of day. "Don't go, please."

Michael studied him, his face a mask.

"Do you think you can do anything that would convince me this is worth the effort?"

"I can try," Ste replied

Michael paused again.

"Prove it," he said.

"How?" asked Ste.

Michael held out his hand. "Come with me."

Ste took the proffered hand and stood. Michael led him between chairs and tables to the back of the pub, and into the bathroom. Then he led him into a stall and closed the door behind them. There was little space in the stall to do anything except stand face to face.

Ste frowned in confusion. "What…"

Michael kissed him. It was almost as powerful as Brendan's, domineering, excited. When Michael broke away, he was grinning.

"Are you going to show me, then?" he asked.

Ste frowned again, still not sure. Michael glanced down at his own groin, then grinned back at Ste. Then he put his hand on Ste's shoulder and applied a little pressure.

A small smile of understanding passed Ste's face as he cottoned on. Then he knelt down as gracefully as he could.


	5. Chapter 5

Brendan was in a foul mood. Ever since that stupid mis-timed kiss, he'd been cursing himself. And Steven. And stupid, fun-loving students.

But he'd gone back to standing outside Steven's flat on the nights he didn't have to work. Only this time, he was slightly more subtle about it.

He wondered if Steven knew.

Friday night, though, he'd had to work. It was already one of the busiest nights in the club, of course, and then Cheryl had booked the night off for some girly thing. It had been a horrible evening; fights had broken out, he'd seen evidence of drugs and failed to catch any dealer, one of the more stupid members of staff had slipped on a mess they made themselves, and knocked some of the best champagne so it smashed on the floor. He'd taken the cost from their wages of course, but the whole thing had given him a headache.

So the last thing he'd wanted when he'd got home was an irate Cheryl blabbering on about some student who'd ignored her.

He couldn't blame them. He often ignored Cheryl too.

But then Cheryl had suddenly said "Ste" and he realised he should have been listening.

"Slow down, Chez, I haven't go a clue what you're babbling on about."

"It's that Ste, isn't it?" She screeched. "Strutting around, bold as brass, having a date in the Dog with some bloke."

Brendan felt his stomach clench with anger and jealousy. Some bloke thought he had a chance with his Steven? Thought he could get his filthy hands on the object of Brendan's every desire?

But Brendan couldn't dwell. Cheryl was talking again, and he needed the information.

"So, I knew I had to do the right thing, right? I had to let that man know what he was letting himself in for with someone like Ste. So I told him what Ste's like, right there in the Dog."

Brendan didn't even feel a slight twinge of the regret he usually did when Cheryl told him of another person she'd informed of "Ste's filthy lies." He'd ordered her not to the minute he'd found out what she'd done. But this was different. He didn't want Steven finding happiness with another man any more than Cheryl did, though of course, for very different reasons.

"So…" he said, urging her on.

"So, he didn't believe me, did he? Basically told me to get lost! I've never been so insulted!" Brendan thought Steven was probably more insulted by the whole situation than Cheryl, but that didn't really matter. Steven had had a successful date, despite the expert interference of Brendan's sister and some usually date-destroying accusations being thrown.

Brendan shot back out of the door. Exhausted though he was, he needed to see Steven.

He barged through the village, but in the absence of people at that time of night, no one really cared that he was barging. He got to the flat in minutes, slightly disappointed by the lack of outlets for his frustrations.

The flat was dark and quiet. He genuinely considered knocking. It would be the polite thing to do, after all. But then he remembered getting toddlers back to sleep if they were woken up in the night. If that happened, there would be no chance. Steven wouldn't give him the chance to talk.

So he broke in.

It was stupidly easy. Just like all the other times he'd broken in. He needed to talk to Stephen about that. Maybe he'd wait til they were talking properly again though, until Steven had calmed down and let them get back together, and his own breaking in was no longer necessary.

He closed the door carefully and quietly, then made his way stealthily through the darkness to the door of the bedroom he knew to be Steven's.

He took a moment as he realised that he might be about to reveal one of his worst nightmarews when he opened that door – Steven in bed with another man, wrapped around him as he used to wrap himself around Brendan. But he had to know.

He pushed the door open gently. It squeaked a little but there was no answering sounds to suggest he'd woken anyone up. He shut the door carefully then opened just enough of the curtains to bring some streetlight into the room.

Brendan had got past that stage where he couldn't reveal his feelings even to himself. The relief at seeing Steven all alone almost brought tears to his eyes. He allowed himself time enough to get back under control and spent it staring at Steven.

God he was beautiful; all long, thin limbs and soft skin. And his face was so perfect, his features feminine and delicate and yet manly. Steven was such an intoxicating mixture of vulnerability and strength, like he was made for Brendan to protect but would fight him every step of the way. And whenever Steven did surrender, when he gave himself over to Brendan so completely as they made love, that was when Brendan felt like he'd found a little kind of paradise.

He couldn't just stand and look, though. He needed to talk to Steven, to let him know how ridiculous he was being, to stop him going any further.

He could see the problem with waking him up though. The first thing Steven would do would be shout out in surprise, or just because it would be another opportunity to shout at Brendan, and the last thing Brendan wanted was to wake Amy up. He placed a hand over Steven's mouth, before carefully shaking him awake.

It took a moment for Steven to open his eyes, but from that moment on he was awake. He did try to cry out, but instead of just letting Brendan's hand calm him, he started to panic, and struggle. Brendan had to grab his hands to stop him struggling.

"Shh, Steven, shh, it's OK" he murmured, quietly, in as calming a voice as he could muster.

Steven stopped quite suddenly, but his face was far from calm. He looked terrified.

"I want to take my hand off your mouth. I don't want to wake the kids, yeah, so you're not going to make a fuss are you?"

Steven stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, slowly. Brendan removed his hand.

The second he was free, Steven jumped out of the other side of the bed. Brendan sighed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Steven."

"What, the fuck do you think you're doing Brendan?" Steven was only just managing to keep his voice low.

Maybe he should have planned the words he was going to use before he woke Stephen up. "I just… I needed to…"

Steven scrunched his noise up, "What? Scare the shit out of me? Is that your new tactic?"

"Don't be thick, Steven, of…"

"Don't call me thick!"

"Cheryl said that you went on a date tonight." Brendan aimed for maximum venom in the word 'date.'

Steven's face was incredulous, "So you thought you'd break into my flat in the middle of the night?"

"I needed to speak to you…"

"A sane person would have knocked in the morning, Brendan!"

"Did you go on a date or not?" Brendan almost forgot his own quiet rules.

The younger man folded his arms, "Well that's none of your business anymore, is it?"

"Of course it's my business, Steven. It'll always be my business! You are my business!"

"No, Brendan, you made your choice, yeah? You chose the man who tried to rape me. You chose to protect him, you chose to let your sister ruin my life, you chose to prove I couldn't trust you, that you didn't love me, so you can go now, yeah?"

Brendan growled, "I explained all that, Steven."

"Well, not well enough, you didn't!"

"Just, shut up!" Brendan was clinging to his temper by a thread. "I love you, Steven, I will never stop loving you, you know what I have done for you, because I love you, to protect you! This is not over, it will never be over, I will never let it be over!"

There was a silence at that. Steven looked stunned, speechless, his breathing hard.

"Now come on," Brendan carried on, much more calmly, strolling round the bed to stand closer to Steven, "stop pretending that this isn't what you want, yeah?

Steven spoke so quietly Brendan almost didn't hear, "You keep behaving like him."

Brendan had no idea what the boy was talking about now. Steven just carried on.

"You're just the same as him, aren't ya? You lie, you manipulate people, you have to control them, you punish them. You know, when he was trying to hurt me, all he talked about was you. He was taken in by it all, too. Thinking that you loved me. He did what he did to punish you. He talked about 'taking my punishment,' like you did. But you never loved me, did you? It was just about you getting one over again. How many times will stupid Steven come back to me? How many times can I beat him up, and he'll still let me shag him. And none of what you said was real, was it? It was just some power game. And now you think you can do it again? But you can't. Tonight, I went on a date with Michael, and he was fun, and he was sweet, and so not you."

Brendan could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, but he'd been training himself not to cry for thirty years. But Steven didn't stop there.

"And afterwards, I was so happy that I got down on my knees and I blew him. I sucked his cock and let him fuck my mouth, and if that hasn't told you whether I'm coming back, then nothing will."

Anger reared inside Brendan like a dragon. He barged forward, closing the gap between him and Stephen, grabbing the boys collar and shoving him against the wall.

But Steven had expected it.

"And there it is, the last piece of the puzzle, no other way round so it's force next, yeah?"

Brendan froze. He would never do that, surely Steven knew that.

"Get out of my flat Brendan."

Brendan didn't move.

"Get out of my flat!" Steven repeated.

Brendan breathed deeply. Steven had talked him into a corner. He could do nothing now that wouldn't prove him right. He turned, and began to walk out. At the door, he looked back at Steven.

"You're wrong," he stated, "No one will ever love you like I do. And I will prove it to you."

And he strolled out into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Most difficult chapter to write yet. I feel a warning is necessary; may contain non-Stendan related sexy times. Agh! But don't worry, it's clearly not even comparable. Also short, so don't worry too much.**

Brendan had broken into his flat in the middle of the night.

It was crazy stuff like that that scared Amy so much, and why she'd never just let Ste make decisions about it anymore.

And then there was everything Brendan had said. The previous summer, Ste would have danced around the village, laughing in pure joy to hear all that. But now…

Now Ste didn't want to hear it at all.

Not because he didn't feel that way about Brendan. Of course he did. You couldn't just switch off feelings like that. They would be within him forever. It was the opposite. Every time he heard Brendan's voice his resolve crumbled a little. When Brendan made love declarations (even slightly psychotic, late at night ones,) it was like an entire wall of defence toppled down. But Ste couldn't let himself fall back into that trap, into another round of violence or betrayal or both. No. He couldn't let himself take any more of that.

He didn't sleep much after his unexpected visit. Who would? He'd put the chain on, then quickly checked on the kids, but with no real fear for them. Then he'd got back into bed and thought carefully.

By dawn he had hold of four key points.

1) He was a hairs breadth away from just falling back into Brendan's arms again.

2) He could not do number 1.

3) Michael had been a laugh, sweet, kind, understanding and hot.

4) Michael wasn't Brendan.

The obvious answer was obviously to make things work with Michael. It was early days, but Michael would help him stay away from Brendan. So, it was just up to Ste to make things work with him. To not scare him away, to follow his lead, to be everything Michael could want him to be.

Without being too needy. After all, they had only had one date.

He forced himself to wait until lunchtime to text, when he was already at the restaurant, a short way into his shift, and then only sent "Hi. Great time last night. Is your head as bad as mine? S"

It was the twelfth draft. He'd tried a few before deciding he shouldn't suggest another night out so soon. That would be breaking his own needy rule. And of course, tonight was the big opening of the restaurant, anyway.

His phone beeped. A reply.

"Hey, had fun. And there was nothing wrong with your head. M"

Ste went red and hid the phone, but it forced a laugh from his lips too.

"There's more of that if you play your cards right," he text back, daringly. Then got to work.

It was hard and tiring and hot, but totally worth it. They were fabulously full, turning people away who hadn't booked. And the feedback was great. Pierre Lelann was in his element, and a complete nightmare when it was full on, but as the last dishes went out, he remembered everyone and thanked them personally. He had dreams for the future.

Ste went home buzzing, catching the 11.15 bus back to the village. That was when he got the text.

"Flat mate gone out. Come over? M"

So, it wasn't exactly romantic, but it could turn out to be fun. And he'd given head in a public toilet on a first date, he couldn't exactly play coy now.

He text back. "OK. Wot's the address?" He waited quite a while for a reply – Michael must have been in the middle of something, but the text arrived just as Ste's bus reached his stop. He made his way over easily, and arrived before midnight.

Michael's flat was a surprise. Ste'd expected a grotty little place, student type, but it was nice. Easily as nice as Brendan's, or nicer. Michael had answered the door in boxers and a tee-shirt, and a sexual smirk that left Ste in no doubt over what he wanted.

"Alright?" he said.

"Alright." Ste replied, smiling.

"You coming in then?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," Ste answered, "if you want."

Michael stood aside, and Ste wandered in.

The flat was even nicer on the inside. Flat screen telly, clearly decorated by someone with a proper sense of style. Ste wondered who Michael had paying for all this; it had to be someone pretty well off, or else Amy'd made some big mistakes while applying for her student loan.

"Nice place," he said.

"Thanks," replied Michael, and he kissed him.

It was a nice kiss. Just the right mix of tender and urgent, and yet Ste couldn't stop himself comparing it to Brendan's soul consuming passion. It wasn't there. But then, this was only really a second date, he couldn't really expect that sort of connection so quickly.

Michael brought his hands to Ste's neck, pulling him gently closer until their bodies were touching, then let his hands drop down, stroking Ste's torso, until he reached Ste's trousers.

Ste pulled back, surprised.

"Hang on," he said.

"What?" Michael asked, a touch of impatience in his voice.

"Well, I've only just got here, haven't I?" Ste tried to keep his voice light, after all, it wasn't a big deal.

Michael looked at him like he was being stupid, "What did you think you were coming here to do?"

Ste laughed, what an odd question. "I don't know, I thought we might, you know, talk first, or sommat."

Michael's laugh was a little harsher than Ste's. "It's after midnight, Ste."

"Yeah, I know, but…"

"Are you up for this, or what Ste?" Michael interrupted.

"Yeah, but…"

"Well, stop messing me around, yeah?"

Ste put his hand out, to stop him. "Is that all you want? Sex?"

Michael laughed, more kindly this time. "Course not, you muppet. Is that what this is about?"

Ste was confused, "Well…"

Michael put his hand on Ste's shoulder. "Didn't you want a romantic relationship?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, Ste, this is part of that, you know," Michael replied, "Are you gonna get all shy like some girl, now?"

"No!" Ste insisted.

"Well, then. We can talk when we go on another date, yeah?" And he kissed Ste again.

This time Ste let him. He didn't stop him when he pulled Ste's trousers again, or backed Ste over the sofa. And it wasn't bad. Michael knew what he was doing. He was all easy confidence and gentle and when it was time made sure Ste came first.

When they were done, they lay sprawled on the couch for a few minutes. Then Michael turned to him and said "Did you want to stay the night?"

Ste looked back. Michael's face was blank, offering no clues to what would be the right answer. He did remember they were on the sofa, not the bed.

"Er, no, I'd better get back. Don't want Amy to worry. And the kids might need me in the morning. I've barely seen them this week."

"Right," replied Michael, "well, see ya."

"Yeah," Ste complied, "see ya."

He gathered his trousers and underwear and put them back on. Michael got up too, and padded into another room. He came back with a beer.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, see ya" Ste said again.

Michael took a sip from the bottle, then pecked Ste on the lips. "Bye." He said and turned the telly on.

"Bye," Ste said to the back of his head. Then walked out.

The walk home was not far and Ste rushed it. When he got back to his, he carefully closed every door, chaining the front in case Brendan gave a repeat performance, and went straight to bed.

He almost managed to keep the tear from falling.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews. They mean so much to me! And to everyone who has favourited too.**

**It's been very interesting to hear what you think of Michael, and I'm pleased I wasn't too subtle!**

**Enjoy!**

Brendan watched the small steel balls swing back and forth, back and forth, clicking as they knocked each other. The motion was hypnotic, and as he watched his emotions swirled in a similarly pointless and impotent way.

He had failed. Failed to get Steven back. He had actually made it worse. Everything Steven had said poured through his head, haunting him, and yet was untouchable. He couldn't deal with any of it, couldn't face it, couldn't answer it, couldn't sort it out.

The words Steven used told Brendan he wanted it over. He didn't want to see Brendan again, let alone be with him. But Brendan didn't really believe it. They'd had that conversation hundreds of times before.

But maybe they had been through too much now. It had been a miracle that Ste had been able to look at him after the incident, but the boy definitely didn't understand why he couldn't tell Cheryl. Was it better to try to make him understand, or to simply try to push through it. They had plenty of issues they'd never dealt with.

Brendan growled and knocked the stupid desk toy onto the floor. He could barely believe he was still in this situation; dreaming up rediculous ways to get back a reticent Steven. But the last two attempts had failed. But they had both been quite forceful, he supposed. He'd taken the power. Maybe there was another way then?

He hardly bared think about it.

Could he really romance a man, like he had Eileen in the early days? Maybe he hadn't even tried to romance anyone since his teens. And even that hadn't exactly been romance.

Hearts and flowers.

It was the last thing left to try. The only thing.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

* * *

><p>Ste didn't call Michael the next day. Or the day after that. He was hoping Michael would be the one to call, as Ste was worried that that was it now. He'd given Michael what he'd wanted. Anything else had just been in his head.<p>

Now there was nothing between him and going back to Brendan.

On the third day he just picked up the phone before he could think about it.

Michael answered on the third ring.

"Alright Ste?"

Ste almost dropped the phone with nerves.

"Hi," he said.

Michael waited for a bit, then said, "So, er, did you want something."

Ste swallowed. That wasn't welcoming. "I was just, er, wondering if you wanted to go out again? At all?"

Michael didn't pause in replying, "Alright."

Ste nearly fell over with his relief.

"Great," he said, "What do you fancy?"

"Er, how about that club in the village, that might be fun."

Shit.

"Er, maybe we could go to one in town instead?" Ste suggested, trying to sound casual.

"But this one's, like, right down the road," Michael laughed. "We won't have to worry about taxis or anything."

"Er… " Ste thought quickly, "hang on, I think there's someone at the door."

He put his phone down carefully on the kitchen table then dashed out of the flat, running up the stairs two at a time to knock on Rhys's door.

He pounded for a bit before Rhys answered.

"Ste? What's wrong with you?"

"Look, can't explain, right, but I need to know, is there any night this week when neither Cheryl nor Brendan will be in the club?" Ste asked.

"Why do you…"

"Rhys, I haven't got time, is there a night or not?"

"Not likely" Rhys replied, shaking his head, "they're the only managers left now, so…"

Ste swore, which made Rhys look a little nervous.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

But Ste was thinking. What would be worse, Brendan or Cheryl, Brendan or Cheryl?

Cheryl would bar them. That was the worst surely? After the other night, Brendan would probably just glare from the other side of the club, with his tail between his legs. Hopefully. "When is it just Brendan then?"

"Er, day after tomorrow I think…"

"Right, thanks Rhys" and Ste dashed back down the stairs, leaving a confused Ste behind him. He ran to the phone.

"Hi?" he asked.

"Yes, for some reason I am still here," replied Michael, sardonically.

"Sorry!" Ste whined. "Look, how about the day after tomorrow?"

"Who was at the door?" Michael asked instead of answering.

"What?" asked Ste.

"You just went to answer the door? Or so you said."

"Oh, right, yeah, just … someone trying to sell something."

"Trying to sell what?"

"Double glazing?" That might have been more believable if Ste hadn't phrased it like a question.

"Right…"

"So, the day after tomorrow? At the club?"

"Whatever…"

"I'll meet you there at eight?" Ste continued, ignoring the slight chill that had crept into Michael's voice.

"Ten," Michael said, "I'm seeing some friends before then."

"Alright," agreed Ste. It would be easier for getting time off too. "See you then,"

"Yeah," Michael huffed and he hung up.

Ste took a deep breath. Was this a third date now? That was the right direction. He could show Michael he was worth the effort couldn't he? Michael clearly fancied him.

He just had to hope nothing else put him off.


	8. Chapter 8

Thursday nights were kind of mixed at Chez Chez. It was quite busy, but not heaving like it could do on a Friday or Saturday. Brendan surveyed his kingdom. It had been more satisfying today; he'd confiscated some drugs, sent the dealer packing with his tail well and truly between his legs, and planned the redistribution. The DJ was good, the mood even better, and the drink (and cash) flowing.

Brendan circulated the club, eye out for trouble, but he was feeling calm. He had begun his plan. He was well on his way.

He spotted Steven just after ten. He was lurking in a corner with his phone in his hand. Brendan took a moment just to look at Steven, to appreciate his form again. It was while he was looking that someone barged past him, knocking his arm. Brendan let his annoyance show; one glimpse of his best angry face was usually enough to give most people a good enough scare that they do that again. But this guy didn't even look at him. Instead he strode straight over to Steven.

Brendan straightened up as he saw Steven turn and greet the man, who in turn put one hand around the back of Steven's hand and gave the sort of kiss that would have had most people screaming 'get a room'. The stranger's lips covered Steven's completely, his tongue clearly invading that delicious heat Brendan craved so desperately, and Steven's eyes closed as he submitted to the domineering man. The nasty, jealous beast within Brendan's chest roared with anger and one of that bastard's hands roamed down Steven's thin frame to rest upon his arse.

Brendan surged forward, and might have got all the way before thinking about the consequences if Steven hadn't swatted the hand away, in an easy, playful move. Brendan stroked his tash to calm himself. The couple went to buy drinks.

Brendan watched the whole night. He felt raw hurt and anger at the whole thing. What was Steven trying to do? Make him jealous? Well that was working, but the few times Brendan spotted the boy's gaze drift to him, the expression was not one of triumph; it was one of worry and fear.

He noticed other things too. There was a lot of laughter being shared, but more from the stranger than Steven who, though laughing at all the same times as his companion, seemed to hid his face or blush almost as often. Clearly many of the jokes were at his expense. At other times the stranger openly checked out other men, often while Steven was talking. It made Brendan even angrier.

Because they were moves he himself might use. Moves he had moved. Not that he would use them now, but he knew what they did. They were about putting Steven down. Insulting him. He hadn't been as playful as this guy, but it achieved the same end; making Steven feel worthless, letting him believe you were doing him a favour giving him the time of day, then when the inevitable beating came, the boy would feel like he was to blame, that he deserved it.

Was this bastard hurting Steven as well as touching him? God help him if he was; Brendan would beat him to a bloody pulp. He had to find out. Now.

Brendan strolled over. He saw Steven's eyes spot the move, and the look of panic cross his face. The stranger didn't notice him yet. Good. Speed would be the deciding factor for this manoeuvre.

He pushed himself between Steven and the stranger. "You're barred," he said to a surprised face. Then he span around, putting a hand around Steven's arm at the elbow. "Office, now!"

He had expected anger, a sassy answer, or maybe an instruction of where to go. Or maybe fear. He didn't mind Steven's fear; that was what often kept the boy safe. But he wasn't ready for the resigned misery that appeared on the boy's face or the nearly broken quality to the his answer.

"No."

Brendan tugged Steven along, "Now!" he repeated.

The stranger did try to intervene, "Hey, what do you think you're doing mate?" but Brendan batted him aside like an annoying fly, and had Steven in the office and the door locked with minimal effort.

The banging on the door was quite annoying though.

And Steven was already going for the key. Brendan put it in his trouser pocket and told the lad to calm down.

Steven folded his arms and waited.

Brendan began, his tone verging on menacing. "What do you think you're doing, Steven?"

Steven seemed to be expecting that, and Brendan was relieved to notice some of the sass returned as the boy said, "I'm on a date Brendan. I know you've never really done them yourself, but you do work in a club, I would expect you to recognise one."

The sarcasm was such a relief it took Brendan a moment too long to get angry. Steven continued.

"_We're_ not together, Brendan. It doesn't matter what either of us want. You chose to protect your Dad, you showed me I couldn't trust you, so I'm moving on, and I can date who I want."

He went for the key again. Brendan held him back with a hand on his chest.

"Stop lying to yourself, Steven. You and me, we'll never be over. But you'll see that yourself soon enough, you always come back to me. But stay away from that bastard, yeah?"

Steven looked shocked. "You're going to make this about Michael now? You don't even know him!"

"I have eyes, Steven!"

"So he takes me on dates and buys me flowers? That makes him thoughtful and nice, not someone to avoid!"

"He's manipulating you."

Steven actually laughed, but in shock not humour. "Seriously, _you _are accusing him of trying to control me?"

"He…"

"You dragged me in here, you break into my flat, you tell me you love so I'll open my legs, and _you're_ accusing a nice normal guy of trying to _control_ me?"

Brendan ducked his head, but he wasn't defeated, he was just regrouping. He needed Steven calm if he was going to understand.

But suddenly Steven was right in front of him, leaning close.

"But that's all irrelevant, really, isn't it?" he whispered, "Michael, dating. We just have that connection, don't we? Like we're tied together. Neither of us can resist each other."

Brendan felt Steven's hand on his leg, "We both know what'll happen next, don't we?" Steven was so close, so warm. Brendan let out an involuntary groan of want. But the hand was moving too quickly. It had dived into his pocket while Brendan was still enjoying the feeling of Steven's breath against his face, and Steven was unlocking the door before Brendan even thought to move.

Sneaky little git, Brendan thought, impressed.

"Sorry, he locked the door," Steven said to the man outside with a face like thunder. Michael. Brendan glowered at him.

"Yeah, I noticed," replied Michael, glaring at Brendan with equal ferocity. "Ste," Michael continued, not taking an eye off Brendan, "why don't you go wait outside, yeah? I think this gentleman and I need a little chat."

Brendan huffed. This prat looked even younger than Steven, and he was dismissing him without even glancing at him. Could Steven not see what he was doing?

"Can't we just go?" Steven asked, naturally reluctant to leave them alone.

Michael still didn't look at him, "If you want this to work, Ste, you're gonna have to listen to what I say, yeah?"

"But…"

"Wait outside."

This might be interesting, Brendan thought, as Steven, with just one more glance between them, turned and moped his way down the stairs. Michael waited a few moments before stepping into the office and shutting the door behind him.

"Brendan Brady," he said, slowly, rolling the sound through his mouth.

Brendan tilted his head. He didn't know Michael's second name. That was annoying, the lad already had one up on him.

"Michael," he said, allowing the venom to flood through his voice at the arrogant little brat.

Michael smirked. "You don't remember," he said simply.

Brendan's neck stiffened. Remember what?

"Thanks for the flowers, by the way," Michael continued, "Got me a bunch of brownie points them. Hmm, it'll be fun collecting them later."

A flinch of annoyance passed through Brendan. The first romantic gesture in fifteen years and this little shit was taking the credit? He tried not to let the annoyance show.

"Steven told you about me," he said instead,

"Actually, he never said a word," Michael replied, nonchalantly, "it'll be fun thinking up things he can do to make up for that. And he'll do them. You see, some idiot left him with the self confidence of an ant and yet desperate to escape. I've never met anyone easier. And I've worked with prossies."

Fury raged through Brendan. How dare anyone talk about Steven like that, let alone someone who was pretending to care? He grabbed the younger man's collar and shoved him back against the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted.

Michael didn't flinch, or frown, or even acknowledge the change in position, or Brendan's stance which was now domineering enough to make most people want to run and hide. It reminded Brendan of someone.

"You don't remember me," Michael repeated, "Shame, I know I was an annoying little shit back then, but I thought I was more memorable than that. There are teachers who still have nightmares about me. And the odd social worker." He kept his face blank, still, staring at Brendan.

And it slowly came back to him. A closed club, messing about with Vinnie, casual and easy, then suddenly being interrupted by a brat demanding to see his dad. An uncaring father being called, taking three hours to show while the little shit damaged furniture, stole booze, broke toilets. Brendan praying his own gorgeous son would not turn out like that one.

"Mickey," Brendan remembered, "Mickey Houston."

"There you go," smiled Michael, "knew you'd get there."

Brendan let go of the man's collar slowly, and stepped backwards. This was a game changer.

"I heard they put you away," he said.

"Four years. Young offenders. It ain't forever, Brendan."

"So I see."

Michael stepped away from the wall. "Yeah, been out a good six months now. See, I had some research to do."

Brendan's stomach twisted. "I'll bet," he said, non-committally. Better to let him talk, find out what he knows.

"See, while I was inside, I got some really bad news."

Brendan hoped his face didn't flinch, "Yeah," he said, weakly, "Yeah, I was sorry to hear about that."

"Were ya? Sorry?" asked Michael.

"Yes," replied Brendan, desperate to keep the panic from his voice.

"Why sorry, Brendan?"

Brendan focused on his breathing. "Isn't that what you're supposed to say to someone who's lost a parent?"

"Yeah, you're right Brendan, course, that's normal isn't it?" But Michael's expression said anything but that. "So, I went researching. It took me a while. More than one person might hold a grudge against someone as powerful as my Dad. Jealousy, mostly, he'd say, and he was probably right. Lof of fingers in a lot of pies, as they say. But I didn't get far. At first I thought it was because people were scared, that it was some big fish keeping them quiet. So I got scarier. I did some big scary shit. And still no one seemed to know anything. It was very frustrating, Brendan!"

Brendan hummed and nodded in response.

"So, I had to have a little think. What business transactions were taking place just before Dad died? I had a nice chat with his old accountant." Michael looked around him. "Dad owned a couple of legitimate businesses, but Chez Chez was the first I looked at. Do you know why, Brendan?"

"No," Brendan lied, smoothly.

"Really?" Michael asked, "You do surprise me. It seems like the last thing Dad did when he was alive was pass his share of this club, for free, to Warren Fox. Did you not know that?"

Brendan grunted, "Course I… I knew Danny passed the club to Foxy, I just didn't know it was the last thing he did."

"Yeah, I mean how would ya?" laughed Michael, "Unless you was there?"

Brendan forced a laugh back.

"So, I went to visit Mr Fox," Michael continued. "He's surprisingly easy to find, you know, where you put him. In prison."

Brendan grunted again, "He put himself in prison, and his son called the police, I just tried to stop him murdering a wee lass."

"Course, you ain't no grass, are you?" Michael laughed. "Shame the same can't be said for your mate Warren."

Brendan laughed again, "Why, what did he say?"

"Oh, not much the first time I visited. Thought I was a cheeky little git, too big for my boots. He used some language you wouldn't share with your Mum. But I have my ways. I went back two days later, and a significantly more bruised Warren Fox sang like a bird."

Brendan laughed again, still forced, while his heart beat fast as a rocket.

"I think we're on the same page, now Brendan."

Brendan wasn't going to give up quite that easily. "Not really, Michael."

Michael grinned, "Nice try. I think that'll do for tonight. I've got a fit, willing man waiting for me outside." Michael casually turned and opened the door, the sound of the club in late evening swing reminding Brendan to keep himself under control, then turned back to Brendan.. "I'm gonna go make the most of that. Why don't you spend the evening thinking about what I could do to him? Think how much more than just your jealousy you'll have to think about now."

He turned to leave. "Oh, Brendan," he added, "if I get the tiniest hint of pigs, or even you hanging about tonight, I'll be cutting my losses and gone. I think you can guess what that means."

And Brendan watched him go, a completely new sense of fear overwhelming him.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Nasty chapter. It will get better, just enjoy the angst!**

Ste leant against the wall of the club. It wasn't exactly warm out, and he had crossed his arms to keep the chill out, but it wasn't really working. He wondered what Brendan and Michael were saying. Or were they fighting? And would Michael just give up on him when he knew the full extent of his baggage. Well, he probably didn't know the full extent yet. That would take days to explain fully.

A bunch of rowdy clubbers stumbled out of the club, almost knocking Ste over as he waited. He gave them a good bit of lip for their rudeness, but all the time he was feeling more and more worried. He thought of all the things Brendan had done to get rid of competition in the past. Noah had got off easily compared to what Brendan had tried to do to Macca when he saw them kissing. Could Michael take care of himself? He was even younger than Ste, but so confident and strong, but maybe he just hadn't had the confidence knocked out of him yet. In a few years he could be a completely different person. But why would he bother fighting for someone like Ste?

Suddenly Michael stepped out of the club. His face showed a glimmer of something like satisfaction before he let his gaze fall upon Ste and his face went blank. He put an arm around Ste's waist, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him at all. He led Ste away from the centre of the village and back to his own flat, walking the whole way in silence. After guiding Ste inside, he closed and locked the door.

He studied Ste for a moment, eyeing his face as Ste waited. Michael had surprised him before; understood his failings, forgiven him for them. Ste could feel a small beam of hope through the huge clouds of misery.

Michael walked past him and sat on the sofa. He didn't offer Ste a seat. Instead, he regarded him levelly for a few minutes more.

"That was an interesting chat," Michael said eventually. Ste let his head drop forward, feeling like a naughty kid in front of a favourite teacher.

"What happened?" Ste asked.

"Well, you never told me you had a crazy, possessive ex happened." Michael snarled, making the guilt grumble again at the base of Ste's stomach.

"I'm sorry," Ste said, quietly.

"And that he used to knock you about."

A small, overlooked part of Ste's mind was surprised that Brendan had shared that information with Michael. It seemed out of character. The greater part just felt more guilt for telling Michael the lie.

"Sorry," he repeated in barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know if that's good enough, Ste. I've done nothing but try to be nice and fun and thoughtful, and all I get back is lies!" Michael's voice was exasperated.

Ste needed to say something, anything, in his own defence. "I never lied," he tried, "I just… didn't say."

"Bloody hell, Ste!" Michael nearly shouted, "I can see why Brendan lost his temper with you! You're really trying mine!"

God, was that true? Ste didn't really know anymore. Because it hadn't just been Brendan had it? His Dad had left, his stepdad lost his temper with him. He'd got on Mike Barnes' nerves too, and there had always been a good reason for every hit from him.

"Sorry," he whispered again.

"Yeah, well," grunted Michael, "maybe sorry doesn't cut it. You clearly don't want this to work. I don't know why I'm bothering." He stood up and walked towards the door.

"I do!" Ste protested, "I do, I really do! I really like you Michael. I wanna make this work!"

Michael slowed to a stop before the door, but kept facing away from Ste.

Ste knew he was close to keeping him. He just needed a little more.

"Please Michael," he whispered, "let me stay."

Michael turned slowly, regarding Ste coldly. Ste fought to keep the tears down. "Please," he repeated.

Michael strode back to the sofa and sat, staring levelly at Ste. Then he leant back.

"Strip," he commanded.

"What?" Ste asked, genuinely believing he'd misheard.

"I said 'strip'," Michael confirmed, coldly.

Ste glanced around the room, but knew the flat was empty from the silence that was filling the space.

"I thought you'd want to talk… you know… about Brendan… and…."

Michael interrupted his stuttering, "I thought you wanted this to work?"

Ste blanched, "Yeah… but…"

"How can it work if you don't give a little, Ste?"

"I…"

"Or do you not really want to be in a relationship with a normal, decent guy? Maybe what you really want is to go back to Brendan? Go on, then! He'll take you back, I'm sure of that!"

"No!" Ste cried, "I just… I thought…" he breathed deeply. He couldn't go back to Brendan, he'd never be able to escape again, he'd be a pathetic punch bag for the rest of his life. And it wasn't much that Michael was asking for. Hardly a big deal.

He started to undress. Michael made no move to do the same. He just sat, watching, cold. When Ste was down to just his pants and socks, Michael gave no indication to stop. Ste hesitated a moment longer, then removed them too, and waited.

Eventually Michael seemed to have had enough of watching. He shifted a little further forward in his seat, until he was right against the edge, then unzipped his fly. "Come on, then," he said.

Ste briefly wondered if this was all Michael would want to do to make things up in the future. That could work. He got down on his knees.

A few minutes in, Ste heard the main door of the flat open and close. He stopped and started to pull away, but a firm hand rested on the back of his neck, holding him in place. Well it was too late to hide now. The best he could do was hide his embaressment.

"Jesus, Mickey," a voice he didn't recognise cried in surprise.

"Whatever," Michael replied coldly. "Run along, yeah?"

With a short snort of disgust the man, who Ste assumed was Michael's flat mate, left via one of the internal doors. Ste decided to just keep going. It was easier than anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I was beginning to worry only two people were reading, and though I was loving those two people for reading, it was brilliant when boom, I saw 6 reviews for the last chapter. Please keep them coming, they really make it worth it!**

**Another short chapter, and the next few might not be so quickly updated as real life is annoyingly getting in the way (boo!) but will get it all typed up asap.**

**Thanks again for reading.**

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><p>Brendan tried Steven's phone yet again. It rang out but there was no answer. Again. He left a message. Again.<p>

"Steven, when you get this, call me! Straight away!"

He hung up and dialled the flat's land line. Amy picked up after one ring.

"Brendan, he's still not here! Now stop calling! Lucas was almost asleep that time. I will tell him to call you when he gets here."

Brendan didn't bother acknowledging her. He hung up and once again called Steven. Again, no answer.

"Steven, you cannot trust Michael, please, if you don't trust me, just go home to Amy, but please, you need to stay away from him!"

He hung up again, then threw his phone angrily against the wall. Then checked it was OK. It was his only lifeline. It was a thankfully hardy handset; a gift from Cheryl, when she realised how many he was getting through.

For the first time in his life he really had no clue what to do. What if Michael… He couldn't even finish the sentence in his mind. Images of Steven, hurt, bloody, unmoving, rained down on his mind. One of the bar staff knocked on the office door and came in, took one look at him, turned and ran. Another wasn't so clued in, so Brendan shouted "Get out!" at them until they left in tears.

* * *

><p>Ste had made it to Michael's bedroom. Part of him was aware that that should please him. He didn't think Michael was going to throw him out tonight. He thought he heard his phone again. That had to be the fifteenth time that night. Maybe he should check in case it was Amy, but he was pretty sure it was Brendan, coming up with more pathetic excuses to make him leave Michael's.<p>

The sex had been fun. Not like Brendan's passion, but Ste doubted anything could really compare to that, but he had no reasons to complain. He sat up in the bed, waiting for Michael to return, to choose between sleeping or another round.

The phone rang, again. Ste got up to find his trousers, meaning to turn it off, and had just pulled out the offensive device when Michael returned. He pressed reject, seeing that it was indeed Brendan again, then switched the phone off.

"Hey," the younger man greeted. "I wasn't sure you'd still be awake, but I brought you a drink too just in case."

It was a scotch or whiskey or something like that. Ste rarely drink them himself, and it was only Brendan who ever drank them at the club so he only really knew them apart by their bottles. "Ta," he said anyway, and took the glass.

"I hope you're not thinking of going," Michael said, casually, taking a small sip from his own glass.

"No, I just thought I heard me phone," Ste replied, waving the device in proof, before slipping it back into his trouser pocket. He took a small sip of his own drink. The taste reminded him how little he felt like drinking right then, but he didn't want to be rude. "This is nice," he offered.

"Yeah, cheers," Michael said and chinked glasses. He sipped again, and Ste followed his lead but barely let it touch his tongue. Then Michael put his glass down on one side of the bed, snogged Ste, and went to the loo.

Ste took his chance and poured most of his own drink into Michael's glass. He left just enough that it wouldn't be suspicious when Michael came back, put the glass next to the bed, and got back under the covers.

Michael returned in boxers, and kissed him again, then clambered over him onto the bed. Stroking Ste's belly, Michael whispred "Why don't you get some sleep? You look shattered."

Ste smiled softly. "Yeah, that sounds good," he whispered, and watched Michael take a sip of his own drink. He didn't seem to notice the increased size. Ste let his eyes drift closed. He really was tired.

He thought he felt the bed move again and the body next to him shift as Michael got back out of the bed and move about the room in the direction of the abandoned clothes, but it didn't bother him as he let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Brendan had been sat staring uselessly at his mobile for what felt like hours when it finally rang. It took a moment for the nasty sound to penetrate his mind, and a few more to recognise the name the flashed onto the screen.<p>

He grabbed it and accepted the call and cried desperately "Steven?"

A voice at the end of the line chuckled. "Not quite," it said.

"Where is he?" Brendan shouted, "If you've hurt him, I swear…"

"Chill out, Brendan!" Michael laughed, "you'll give yourself a heart attack. You know, you're getting on a bit now, aren't you?"

"Where is Steven?" Brendan demanded, ignoring the attempted teasing.

"Right here. He's naked, in my bed. Perfectly still, eyes closed, legs open. He's got a nice little body, hasn't he? So long and slim, with such perfect skin. Edible."

"If you hurt him, I'll…"

"He's fine, for now." Michael said, emphasising the 'for now', "Actually, I think his anus might be a little sore, we did just have a mammoth sex session!"

"If you lay a finger…"

"Bit late for that, Bren. And I think you need to stop making threats now. You're not really in the right position, are you? You see, I've recently given this skinny chav a special drink, and he won't be getting in anyone's way for a while. In the meantime, I need a job doing. Now, it's probably a little petty for a man of your talents, but I promise you, this is just the beginning. If you complete it, I may let Steven go and see that skinny blond bird he lives with and those brats of his. With you staying a long way away of course. If not, well, I can have fun seeing how much he can stand before I have to start using force to keep him here."

Brendan's heart ached. This man had Steven under his control. Brendan wouldn't think twice about doing whatever he needed to keep Steven safe.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to control his temper.

"That's better, Brendan, much more businesslike."

Brendan grunted.

"I have an annoying pest problem. An old associate of my father's is stepping on my toes, dealing on my patch. He's a showy little git, but no match for you. I'll text you the address, you show, you teach him a lesson, confiscate anything he shouldn't have, bring it to me, and if you can do that before Ste wakes up, I won't need to make him stay. If you show up without what I'm expecting, well, I think you can imagine what will happen."

Brendan could imagine. He hated imagining.

"I'll be there," he said.

"I knew you would Brendan," Michael crowed and hung up.

Brendan stormed through the office, finding car keys and a jacket, before charging out to his car. He sat and waited for the text, fuming. The address arrived and he sped off in that direction.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. Love reading your comments!**

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><p>It was after four am. Brendan was nearly dead on his feet, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He pulled up outside a dark house on the outside of Chester, and checked the address Mickey had sent. There had been two, one the place to pick up the 'stuff,' the other the place for the drop off.<p>

He studied the house carefully. There didn't seem to be anybody about, but that could be misleading. The thought crossed his mind that this was all a huge ambush. If Michael did know what happened to Danny, he would have every reason to hurt Brendan. He could walk in to a dozen blokes with crowbars, or baseball bats. Or just one with a gun.

But maybe it was worth it if it could keep Steven safe.

The house didn't look like anything unusual, but places like that rarely did. He got out of the car, grabbing a torch on the way, and locked it before strolling down the front porch to the painted front door.

The door came down in two swift kicks. Brendan heard muffled sounds of hurried movement from the floor above. A streetlight glinted off some glass on the wall to the right, and Brendan flashed his torch in that direction.

It was a photograph in a frame, showing four happy, smiling faces; a man and woman in their thirties or early forties, a boy of about ten and a tiny girl in her father's arms.

Had he just broken into the home of a random family? What the fuck was Mickey playing at?

A man arrived at the turn of the stairs in front of him. He clearly wasn't any sort of policeman as he stumbled in fear, slipping down a few of the steps. Brendan recognised him from the photo; older now, fatter and greyer, but clearly the father. There were more voices from the floor above – whispers in panicky voices. "What is it? Is somebody there?"

Brendan held the torch facing away from him and at the man's face, hoping it would protect his own identity. The man froze, staring at him, at this dark shadow invading his home.

Brendan decided to speak first, "Mickey Houston sent me."

The whispers above came to a deathly, silent halt. The man on the stairs gripped tight to the banister.

"I don't know who that is," the man said, voice admirably calm for someone so obviously terrified, "now please leave."

Brendan almost believed him, but he was sure he hadn't got the wrong house.

"I can't do that, I'm afraid," he answered truthfully,

There was another whiper at the top of the stairs. The man glanced up then back at Brendan. "My wife is calling the police. They will be here any moment."

"No they won't," Brendan responded, calmly, "they'll take at least ten minutes. Think what I could do in so much time."

The man seemed to droop at the words. "What do you want?" he asked, and Brendan understood what he felt like – needing so much to protect the ones he loved that he would do anything.

"I understand that there is a package here that needs to be returned. Hand it over and I'll be on my way."

The man's fear increased visibly, "I don't know what you mean, really I don't. Take what you want, but please don't hurt my family."

Brendan glared at the man, but fear was gripping his stomach. Fear for Steven, fear for what these people may do, fear of himself, of what he himself may do.

"I will not be happy if I need to look for it myself," he growled, moving towards the man.

The man backed up; "I swear!" he cried, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Dad!" cried a voice from above. It was male, and young - broken but reedy. The man looked at the landing again. "I…"

There was more shuffling from the landing, and the sound of feet running a short distance on the floor above, then running back again. A new face appeared at the top of the stairs, and the son pushed past his father.

The boy was no longer ten. Now he was much closer to twenty, his expression a long way from that easy smile. He held a bag clutched in his hand.

"This is what you want. You don't have to hurt my dad," he whispered.

Brendan was impressed by the lad. He wondered if Declan would be that brave. Brendan would never put himself in harm's way to protect his own father.

He remembered the other bit of the instruction. 'Teach him a lesson.'

He stepped forward, and took the bag, considering the lad. He was just a boy. Older than Brendan was when he first started, but still just a child really.

"If this isn't what I'm looking for, you will live to regret it, boy!" he growled, but didn't open the bag to check.

"It is, I swear," the boy promised.

Brendan studied him a moment longer.

"Lay low. If I see you getting involved with the likes of Mickey again, you will not like the consequences. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded, and started backing back up the stairs.

Brendan nodded too, then turned and walked out of the house. He heard no feet following him and no sirens sounded close.

He checked the second address while he turned on the ignition, then put the car in gear and drove off, feeling sick with himself. He'd just terrorised a normal family because one kid had been tempted. He imagined someone like himself invading his home with Cheryl, or worse, Eileen's home. His boys.

The address was back in Hollyoaks. He wondered whether that was for Brendan's convenience of if that was where Mickey lived now. He had to live somewhere near the village, he supposed, to keep the front with Steven up. He pulled the car up a little down the street. Better not be too early – don't want to draw attention to the fact that he hadn't taught any lessons.

He waited over an hour. It was after seven when he turned the ignition back on and drove the last short distance to the given address. He took a deep breath, picked up the bag and got out of the car.

In time to see a familiar figure step out of the front door.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Sorry I've slowed down - bloody real life!**

Ste woke up groggily. An arm was lying over him heavily, and for a moment he genuinely thought it was Brendan's and felt complete. Then he remembered. No, he must never wake up with Brendan's hands on him again. This was Michael's comforting weight.

Well, not comforting, not really. Just nice. Well, maybe not even nice. He didn't really feel anything for Michael.

Did that mean he was using him? It probably did, really. Ste felt a bit guilty at that. Michael had been a perfectly nice guy, and deserved a perfectly nice guy, not a mess like Ste.

Maybe it was time to stop then.

Maybe not while in his bed under his arm though. And the evening had been fun, really. Sex, drinks, even after that nasty run in with Brendan. Give it a bit longer, then. See how it went. He noticed his mobile was on Michael's side of the bed. He shifted carefully under the arm, then lifted it so he could slip out, and tiptoed around the bed to check the time.

Shit, it was nearly seven. He had work in less than an hour.

He ran around the room collecting clothes, borrowed some toothpaste in an attempt to freshen his breath at least, then checked the time again. There was no way he'd make the bus, and the next one wasn't for an hour. He'd be so late by then.

He could get a taxi. Was it worth it to get to work on time? Probably, he was on great terms with Pierre at the moment, he didn't want to mess that up. He checked his own wallet - he didn't have the cash himself. Maybe Michael wouldn't mind lending him some, just this once.

He shook him. "Michael?"

No response, not even a grunt in his sleep.

"Michael?" he repeated, louder. Still nothing. He must be a deep sleeper. "I need to borrow some cash, just til I can get some out. Michael?" Ste might have been worried if he couldn't hear him breathing so loudly.

A note, that was the way. He found a bit of paper, scribbled "I o u £20. Thanks" then dug through Michael's pockets for a wallet. There were a few twenties in there, so he took one. Then got a wave of temptation. He didn't know Michael's surname. Easily solved – he picked out a credit card.

Mr M Roberts.

Ste smiled. That was a nice name. He put the card back, then put the wallet back on the bedside table. Then got a second wave of temptation. Middle name. Maybe it would be on one of the other cards. Or on a driver's licence or something. He picked up the wallet again, and went for another credit card.

Mr Michael Daniels.

Ste frowned, checking the two cards against each other. They definitely said the two different names.

Bloody hell, did the money that paid for the flat come from credit card fraud?

He looked through the wallet, but there was no other ID, just the two credit cards and a big wad of cash. Was it too big to belong to a student? Not necessarily, some people were just rich weren't they? He could have ridiculously generous parents.

Maybe his parents were split up, and that's why he had two names.

Yeah that was it. Surely. Wasn't it? No need to panic, no need to suspect him of anything. That came from spending too much time with Brendan, didn't it? Most people weren't secretly minor criminals.

He put the whole wallet back again, carefully, hoping it didn't look like he'd gone through it. Maybe he shouldn't borrow the money, in case it caused an argument about this. Or maybe, if this was proof that Michael was up to something with the false names, maybe that would make them a bit more even, help Ste's sense of guilt.

He made sure he had everything, then stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly. Some bloke was sat on the sofa in the living area. He looked surprised to see Ste, which made Ste assume it wasn't the same bloke that walked in on them last night.

"Alright," he said.

The bloke just stared at him, didn't get up or anything.

"Er, see ya," Ste said, awkwardly. When the guy still gave no response, Ste walked out of the flat. Only to come face to face with Brendan.

There was a moment of silence, during which Ste mostly thought swear words, but Brendan's face flooded with what Ste could only recognise as relief.

"Steven," Brendan whispered.

Ste sighed; he was late. He did not need this. He started walking towards the main road, but Brendan ran after him.

"Steven, you're alright!"

Ste carried on walking, "Well, obviously."

"Steven, wait." Brendan grabbed his arm.

"Brendan, I am late for work, I cannot do this now."

Brendan searched his face, like a starving man. "Did he hurt you?"

Still on that nonsense were they? "No, Brendan. Are you still trying to make out Michael's some sort of villain?"

Brendan sighed, his hand still on Ste's arm. "Steven, get in the car."

Ste was not expecting that. "You what?"

"Get in the car Steven." Brendan repeated, calmly.

Ste stared at him. "Are you having a laugh?"

Brendan shoved his face right up into Ste's. He hadn't been this threatening to Ste in a long time, and Ste felt a flash of genuine fear. "I asked you nicely to get in the car Steven. Now are you gonna get in, or do I have to make you?"

Ste tried to pull his hand away.

"It's broad day light!" he protested, not entirely sure that was a good argument.

Brendan just raised an eyebrow.

"I'm late for work!" he repeated.

"We'll drive in that direction," Brendan growled, not sounding the least bit reassuring.

Ste paused another few seconds. What on Earth was he supposed to do?

Suddenly Brendan had both hands on his arms and was pulling him bodily towards his car. "What are you doing?" Ste shouted.

"Steven, I need to get you away from here, please, just get in the car!"

"No! Get off me!"

"Steven!" Ste broke an arm free and was pulling against Brendan's other hand when Brendan shouted "What's his last name Steven?"

Ste froze and stared at him. How did he know that? Ste didn't want to concede, but had to "I don't know."

"He hasn't told you, because he knows you'll run a mile."

"Don't be stupid, it just hasn't come up."

"Steven, his surname is Houston."

Ste glared, "No it isn't!" he protested. "It's Roberts or Daniels."

"It's Houston, Steven, he's Danny's son."

Nausea hit Ste, "No," he insisted, though he wasn't certain any more. "No, this is just some trick again, some pathetic excuse to get me away from him because you're... you're jealous."

"That would fall through in a second, Steven, you know I'm telling the truth. Please, just get in the car."

Ste pondered for a moment, then said "You're driving me to work! Not some random waste land, not anywhere, just to my work!"

"Alright, just get in, please, before Mickey sees us."

Ste hadn't really expected Brendan to agree, but he needed the lift to work, or he was going to be so late. "Alright," he said, and got in. Brendan did the same, and they drove away, Brendan's face covered in relief.

As they drove, Brendan kept glancing at him.

"His name's not Houston," Ste insisted, unprovoked.

Brendan sighed, "It is, Steven," he contradicted, "I recognised him yesterday. He was only a kid when I knew him, but it's him."

"But, why would he be here? Where his Dad was murdered? That wouldn't make any sense."

Brendan was silent, staring at the road.

Ste persisted. "Why would he be here Brendan?"

"He rang me last night, well, early this morning, using your phone." As Brendan talked, Ste dug his phone out of his pocket to check. Brendan continued, "he said I was to collect something for him, he said he'd hurt you if I didn't." Brendan paused, looked at Ste taking it in, then continued, "he said he'd drugged you, so you wouldn't wake up."

"Nah," Ste said, "I'm awake, I only overslept like an hour."

Brendan looked at him, "He said he'd given you a drink."

Then Ste realised. The drink last night, Michael unresponsive this morning.

"I poured it in his glass," he said. "I didn't want it, so I poured it into his glass, and then… and then I couldn't wake him up to tell him I was going."

Brendan looked at him, surprised. Then he laughed.

"It's not funny!" Ste protested, "he tried to drug me!"

Brendan didn't stop laughing, just quietened down a bit. "He drugged himself," he said.

Ste had to admit a smile, but it went quickly, "But why is he here, Brendan?"

That silenced Brendan, and this time Ste guessed what the silence meant.

"You." He said simply.

Brendan just drove in silence.

Ste worked through what he knew, trying to make sense of it.

"He knows about Danny?" he asked.

"Warren told him," Brendan confirmed.

"So," Ste said slowly, "he wants to hurt you… by using me."

"Yeah," Brendan replied, without looking at him.

Ste nodded. "Right."

There was a silence. They reached the restaurant.

Brendan pulled the car over, and stopped the engine. Ste didn't move for a moment, still thinking about everything he'd just discovered. Brendan broke the silence.

"I don't… I want you to stay with me, today," he muttered, then in a slightly more strangled voice, "please."

Ste laughed, "Yeah, that'll help!" he exclaimed, sarcastically.

"Steven…"

"It's your fault! All of this! I thought he liked me, but it's all about you, isn't it?"

"Steven…"

"No, Brendan! No!" Ste realised he was shouting now, "I am going to work, I'm going back to my life and it has nothing to do with you, right?"

Ste clambered out of the car, and was relieved when Brendan didn't follow him. He stormed over to the restaurant, on time by the skin of his teeth. It didn't take him long to realise Brendan hadn't left yet, and a part of him was relieved. Brendan cared, Brendan was there. He didn't think Michael would actually hurt him, but it felt good to know there was someone there just in case.


	13. Chapter 13

**Two cliff hangers for the price of one!**

Work was relaxing. There was something about working with his hands, cooking, preparing something that looked and tasted good, that made Ste calm and focused, that cleared his mind of all other worries.

Except when nosy waiters asked him about his love life, and about "that bloke that was in here chatting you up." Ste snapped at him and got on with what he was doing, but regretting how grumpy he must seem to these guys who all seemed so nice.

He was just on his way to the staff room to go for a much-needed break, a few hours into his shift, when he heard his mobile. He pulled it out in case it was Amy. It wasn't. It was Michael.

He panicked a bit when he saw the name that his phone flashed, and rejected the call. He wondered to the front of the building to check Brendan was still outside. He was, still sat in the parked car, and Ste was relieved to see him. A few seconds later the voicemail called, and Ste decided it was probably safe to pick up.

Michael had left a message. His voice was deep and viscious. Ste almost didn't recognise it.

"I don't know if you're cleverer than you look or are just plain lucky, Ste, but I know Brendan has enough stuff in that car to send him to prison for a very long time, and though some may see that as sufficient punishment for his crimes, I would be very disappointed at having to become a grass. If you want to avoid that too, I recommend that, when I call again in three minutes, you answer the fucking phone."

Ste fumbled in his rush to hang up, in case he missed the call by accident. He stared at the phone, waiting for the call, drowning in his own dread.

The nasty sound of the ringtone came again, and Ste stared at it helplessly for a moment as Michael's name and number flashed on the screen. He considered not answering, but hit accept anyway.

"Hello?" he said, his voice sounding weak to his own ears and already aware how ridiculous a greeting that was in this situation.

"Ste! Babe!" Cried the overly affectionate voice of Michael, "You left without saying goodbye this morning!"

Ste shivered, "I tried, but I couldn't wake you up."

"Oh Ste," Michael tutted, "you really should have waited, you know, because you've ruined all my carefully laid plans, now, haven't you? Now, what am I going to do with you?"

Michael seemed to be taking time to think about that.

"You can't do anything!" Ste burst out, "too many people know who you are, don't they? The waiters here, Amy, people at the club, people at the Dog, Brendan and Cheryl. You can't do anything!"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, "Is that so? You seem to be under the impression that I care about such things. If I broke your arms and legs, most people would assume it was Brendan anyway. Or I do a good line in making things look accidental. Car accidents, falls. You work in a kitchen Ste. It would only take the right knob left on when you light the stove next."

Ste shivered. Michael could do all sorts and get away with it. Hadn't Brendan said something about Danny making Vinnie's death look like a car accident?

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I think you can see Brendan from where you are, can't you? I can see him too, but he hasn't spotted me. He killed my father. Don't bother trying to deny it, I know he did, and all his actions since he found out who I was have confirmed it. What I want is simple. I want him to pay. To suffer. As he should. I think you understand that, right?

Ste decided not to answer. His truthful answer was no, he wouldn't give a damn if someone murdered Terry, he'd just be relieved, but saying that probably wouldn't help.

Luckily, Michael didn't really need an answer. "Now, I had some beautifully designed plans to use you to help with that, which had the added bonus of some of the neediest sex I have ever had, but through dumb luck, I imagine, as you're really not that clever, you seem to have thwarted that, and as Brendan is possessively sat outside your work, I've had to have a little rethink. So you can pass on a message, Ste."

"What message?" Ste asked, uncertain if he should be relieved or terrified.

"The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children. That's a quote. From the Bible I think. Though, I'm not sure. I never really spent much time at school. The student thing was a lie, of course, if you didn't already figure that one out."

"What do you mean?" Ste asked.

"You really aren't very clever are you?" laughed Michael, then his voice became harsh again; "You are going to walk out of that restaurant, to Brendan's car, and say those exact words. The sins of the father will be visited upon the son. He'll figure it out, even you can't."

He hung up, but Ste did know what it meant. It was just too horrific to contemplate.

He ran to Pierre, who was in the middle of plating up a beautiful main course. "Pierre, I'm sorry, I've got to go. It's my… it's Declan… he's like…my step son, sort of, but… I've got to go, sorry!"

He turned and ran back out through all the lunchtime customers and out into the street. He had a mad panic that it was all a ruse to get him out of the restaurant, but he quickly made it to Brendan's car as Brendan looked surprised to see him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"We've got to get to Ireland. Michael said 'the sins of the father shall be visited upont he sons." We've got to go. Now!"

Brendan paled, but started the car and drove instantly. After a few minutes he said "I'll drop you at a bus stop."

"No way!" Ste almost shouted. "I can't just leave you to it. We can't let him hurt Declan."

"Steven…"

Ste interrupted him, "I'm not arguing, I'm going!"

Brendan was silent, eyes on the road, heading for Liverpool. Then he tugged out his phone.

"Call Eileen," he said, "find out where they are right now."

…xx…

Through his now seemingly semi-permanent cloud of fear, Brendan was aware that as dreadful as the thought of taking Steven to Belfast might be, the idea of leaving him alone and unprotected was a thousand times worse. He was aware of the thousands of pounds of drugs in a bag at Steven's feet and the need to dump them before they reached any port or airport, and that he really couldn't risk being pulled over for anything, however much he needed to drive like a loon.

He was also aware that Steven did not know how to deal with Eileen.

Admittedly, it was probably not the lad's fault. Though neither his Dad nor Cheryl had mentioned the incident to Eileen, the last time she had seen Steven was that awful day in August, when she had found them on the floor. She was not impressed to get a phone call that started "Where are Declan and Padraig?" It didn't help that he'd pronounced Padraig in such a ridiculously English way.

"No Eileen," Steven was saying, voice chavvy best, "I'm with Brendan now." Pause. High pitched screeching. "But I don't even mean that, Eileen, I just mean I'm sat next to him, and he's driving so…" more high pitched squawking. "Eileen… Eileen… just… we need to know where they are Eileen… No… No, Brendan needs to know Eileen. He's their Dad!... 'cause he's driving Eileen!"

Brendan lost his temper "Tell him where they are Eileen!" he shouted.

There was a short silence. The Steven said "Did you hear that Eileen?"

There was a quiet sound of high pitched talking, then Steven asid, in a strained voice, "Thank you Eileen. We'll call back." Then he hung up the phone.

Brendan glanced at him. His face was pale, eyes fixed on the road ahead. This was not going to be good news, but Brendan needed to hear it.

"Where are they?" he asked.

Steven's gaze left the road and fixed upon his face. He swallowed.

"They're at your Dad's." Steven replied.

Brendan swore. Loudly.


	14. Chapter 14

The journey was long and worrying. Brendan had thrown the bag from the floor, that Ste had assumed was filled with drugs, into a bush on a side road before they reached the ferry port, and Ste hadn't questioned it, though he was desperate to. He realised there was too much emotion in Brendan at the moment.

Ste was surprised by the price of the ferry, but Brendan paid without hesitation, then he bought Ste a coffee on the ferry. They sat and stared at each other. Ste wondered what Brendan was thinking. Then he imagined if Leah or Lucas were in danger, and felt what he was sure was just a shadow of Brendan's emotions.

He took Brendan's hand in his automatically at the thought. Brendan looked surprised, but Ste was relieved that his usual instincts seemed to be gone. He didn't lash out, or even pull his hand away. He just sat looking at Ste.

"They're probably fine, you know," Ste said after a while, "He's probably still in Hollyoaks. We'll get there."

But that statement threw up more fears than he'd had previously. Why had Michael warned Ste? Just to scare Brendan? Or to get them out of Chester?

"Call Cheryl," Ste burst out, "I've got to call Amy."

He did so, but she was fine. She'd just picked up the kids from nursery and had been about to go home. He told her to go to Mike's instead, and she didn't question him as much as he thought she would. Instead she begged him to keep in contact.

He ended the call to see Brendan talking into his own phone. "Yes Cheryl, I'm going to be a little while. No, Cheryl, no… just stay with Lynsey, yeah? Or both go stay with Nancy or Jacquie or someone. Because… Cheryl… just do it yeah?" He hung up and put his head in his hands. "Jesus," he said. Ste smiled, enjoying that relationship Brendan had with Cheryl; love and annoyance, but love by far outweighing the latter. Maybe he could understand why Brendan didn't want to hurt that.

But thinking about that made him angry. Cheryl had tried to destroy him, and he couldn't even blame her because he had to blame Brendan; a man he still loved. Pathetically.

And now he was on a ferry on the way to the home of the man he hated most in the world. For Brendan.

He wouldn't have turned back for a million pounds.

* * *

><p>Every muscle in Brendan's body was ready to pound on something. The pure fury that had done nothing but breed and grow since he first saw Michael was only fuelled by the desperate fear for his sons. He hoped Cheryl would do as he asked, but he wasn't certain, and Steven's words had done nothing but make him question his own decisions.<p>

After calling Cheryl, he called Eileen with the same instructions, and as the boat came in to port, he got back in the car thinking about what he should do with Steven. He was not certain he could protect him and the boys, but at that moment he didn't want the younger man out of his sight for a second.

Steven got a call. Amy had arrived at her Dad's and they were all settling in for the night. Steven made her promise that no one would go out and that she'd keep her mobile close at all times. He wanted to call Cheryl again but couldn't while he was driving. He couldn't ask Steven to call her. He just had to hope.

He still knew his way around this part of town very well. The houses, the street names, all so familiar. A lot of the people were different, particularly the kids, but he found his father's place no problem.

He hadn't moved since Brendan was a kid, though only the two of them lived there now; Brendan's Dad and Cheryl's Ma. There was no sign of anyone who shouldn't be there, but cars still lined the streets; cars that he had no way of recognising. He glanced at Steven.

"You ready?" he asked.

Steven had gone pale. Brendan understood. "If he touches you, or even looks at ye funny, I will beat the crap out of him. OK?"

Steven nodded, but Brendan didn't think that reassurance had calmed him as much as it should have.

They got out of the car simultaneously and Brendan waited for Steven, before marching to the front door and banging on it.

* * *

><p>Ste's heart was beating like a piston. On the other side of that door was the man he dreaded more than anyone in the world. The man he hated more than Terry. And here he was, standing voluntarily by that man's son while he knocked politely.<p>

Well, not politely. More banging like he wanted to knock the door in, or smash it by smithereens maybe. He unconsciously shifted behind Brendan as he heard footsteps approaching from inside the house.

"Who is it?" shouted a worried woman's voice on the other side of the door, and Ste felt himself breath again.

"Maggie!" yelled Brendan, "It's me, let me in!"

"Brendan? What on Earth are you doing here?" exclaimed the woman as the sound of a security chain and a lock could be heard. Moments later a tall, brightly dressed woman opened the door wide, with a smile that could have been seen from space, but that faded the moment she saw Ste.

She clearly wasn't certain of anything at the moment.

"Is that… that's that boy isn't it? How dare you come here, you…"

But Brendan simply guided Ste inside and shut the door behind them. "Where are the boys, Maggie?" he interrupted.

"Upstairs," replied Mrs Brady, "but _he_ is not welcome."

"Now is not the time, Maggie," Brendan interrupted again. "Declan, Padraig! Get down here, now!"

"What on Earth…" Mrs Brady tried.

"Now I said!" Brendan shouted again, then said, "they're my sons, Maggie, and Steven is here with me."

"I won't have him in my house!" screeched Maggie, in a voice not unlike Cheryl's when she was righteously shouting at Ste.

"He's not going anywhere," replied Brendan, his voice reaching that dangerously low level that Ste knew meant business. Mrs Brady looked surprised to hear it directed at her. Ste's doubt at his coming here doubled, "Where's Dad?"

"He's at the pub with some friends, thank God."

"What's with all the shouting?" asked a pleasant adolescent voice from the top of the stairs.

Brendan's face lit up at the sight of his son, "Declan! It's great to see you. Where's your brother?"

"On the x-box in the spare room. Is that Ste?"

"Alright Declan?" Ste greeted.

"Don't you talk to my grandson, you…"

"Maggie, just… just…." Brendan was nearing the edge of his temper. Ste put a hand on his arm automatically. It would not have restrained Brendan in any way, but it was enough, "just… hush," Brendan finished.

Declan looked between the three of them with confusion, but when his eyes landed on where Ste's hand was on Brendan's arm a small smirk appeared. "So, what are you guys doing here?" he asked.

Brendan forced a grin that Ste would never have described as comforting, "We're here to see you guys, of course," he said, "go fetch your brother, yeah?"

"Alright," said Declan, as happily as a teenager can, and strode back along the upstairs landing.

Ste asked the question. "Brendan, what are we going to do?"

Brendan must have been wondering the same, as he didn't answer straight away. He glanced at his stepmother, who was still glaring at Ste, then said, "We'll take them out somewhere. We don't want to scare them. Then we'll decide. And anyway, it's about time you met Paddy."

"Brendan, what are you playing at?" Mrs Brady was clearly not going to just accept this turn of events, "Do you know what that… that… _thing_ did to your fa…."

"He did nothing to Dad, Maggie," Brendan said in a falsely calml voice, as the sound of two sets of footsteps immerging from an upstairs room could be heard, "Dad hurt him, so he went to the police, as he should have."

Mrs Brady looked ready to explode.

"Are you accusing…"

Brendan interrupted her, "Not in front of the boys."

All three adults turned their attention back to the stairs where Declan was leading an eight or nine year old boy down to them.

Ste had seen photos of Padraig. He'd looked like a cheekier version of his father, but Ste noticed other small differences now the boy was in front of him. A few of Eileen's freckles, for example.

"Dad!" he shouted from the top of the stairs, running down into Brendan's arms, nearly falling over as he did so.

"Hey, little man," laughed Brendan, "look at you, getting all big now, ain't ye?"

"And that's Ste, Paddy, the one I told you about." Declan smiled, but Ste panicked. What had Declan told Padraig? The same as Cheryl had told everyone in Hollyoaks? Declan noticed his look and elaborated, "Only good things, I promise." Ste breathed in relief. At least two members of Brendan's family didn't think he was a disgusting liar. Yet. Then he wondered what on Earth Declan could have been saying to Paddy anyway. What did Declan actually know?

"Er, hi," he said, uncertain how you greeted the pre-teen son of your abusive, homophobic, gay, ex-lover. Or were they suddenly not exes? What had he been thinking when he insisted on coming? Why on Earth did he think it would help?

Then Brendan took his hand and said "Padraig, this is Steven, my very good friend."

Very good friends? Who hold hands? What was he trying to teach them? Declan already had clear ideas in his head; Ste could tell from the look on his face, and was overwhelmingly pleased that the boy showed excitement, not disgust.

Ste smiled at both boys and said, "Alright?"

Paddy smiled shyly, "Alright?" he replied.

"So, what are you planning on doing then Brendan?" demanded Mrs Brady, tone of voice and body language reminding them all that she was not happy with this turn of events.

Everyone looked at Brendan, including Ste, even though he was pretty sure the plan had only really taken them up to finding the boys. Brendan did not look ready to answer. But answer he did.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Not yet, we were waiting for Granddad," replied Declan, and Ste hoped no one noticed his flinch.

"Well, where's a good place to eat around here? Just a chance for you two to get to know Steven, yeah? Just the four of us." Ste could barely believe his ears.

"And what am I supposed to tell your Dad when he comes home, eh?" Mrs Brady grumbled.

"How about the truth?" suggested Brendan, and gripped Ste's hand firmly. "Right, it's your choice, boys, and it's all on me."


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy!**

Declan let Padraig choose the restaurant and they went to an all-you-can-eat buffet place. There was a short queue, which annoyed Brendan, but he managed to hold onto his temper. Maybe Steven and his boys were a good influence on him.

Or they were his weaknesses. Danny had said, so long ago, that if you wanted to scare someone you didn't threaten them; you threatened what they cared about. And he was showing the world how much he cared for these three people. Was that selfishness? Maybe. But the damage was done now. All he could do now was protect them.

He sent Steven and Declan up to the buffet first, laughing at Steven's wise-crack about getting between him and food. They seemed happy to go together, chatting about football. Brendan smiled at the interaction, then remembered how Steven had looked at him when he'd played with Leah and Lucas. God he hoped he didn't look that soppy.

Paddy was staring at him

"You alright there Paddy?" he asked.

His younger son nodded, looking thoughtful.

"What's on your mind son?" he asked, feeling the time he'd been missing from Padraig's life.

"The kids at school have been saying stuff about you." Paddy mumbled.

Straight into that conversation, then. What a day. His eyes were constantly flying to the doors, but he understood his son's need for this.

"You know, Paddy, people will always talk. Doesn't mean it's worthwhile listening, though."

Paddy looked at the table. Had that sounded like a telling off? Brendan hoped not and added, "Paddy, you can ask whatever you want to ask."

Paddy didn't look up straight away, but his face definitely returned to its previous thoughtful expression.

Eventually he asked "Are you a murderer?"

Brendan took a moment to think before he answered. "There was a bad man who I thought was doing bad things. He knew I was on to him, so he made it look like I'd killed this girl, but it wasn't true. He killed her and those other women, and now he is in prison for those crimes, and I swear to you, Paddy, that I never laid a finger on any of those women."

Padraig took a moment himself to think about that answer. Then said, "OK," and surveyed Brendan again. "Are you gay?"

Brendan hesitated, then took a deep, deep breath. "Yes," he said.

Paddy nodded, as though this were simply confirming something he already knew.

"Does that bother you?" Brendan asked.

"I dunno," Paddy mumbled.

"Right," said Brendan, his stomach knotting.

"The kids at school keep taking the Mickey," Paddy explained.

"Do they?"

"Yeah, they said I was a poofta, 'cos you are."

"What did you say?"

"I said I wasn't and you wasn't either."

Brendan dearly wanted to say, "Hit them," but knew he probably shouldn't. He had difficulty thinking of any other advice. What would a normal father say?

Steven saved him from having to answer by returning.

* * *

><p>As Brendan marched off to the buffet, Paddy following more cautiously, Ste sat down with Declan, who started tucking in to his plate of vegetables enthusiastically. Ste couldn't help but smile.<p>

"How have you been Declan?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Alright," he replied, still munching.

Ste looked at him. He was about as forthcoming as any teenager, but Ste wanted more.

"Does it bother you?"

The feeding didn't stop. Maybe he was more like his Dad than Ste had realised. "Does what bother me?"

"Me and your Dad?"

"Not really," Declan replied, with no real hesitation that could make Ste doubt his honesty. "I mean, it's a bit weird. Not you, I mean, but, you know, him and Mam, like, but you know he was never happy at home. If this how he can be happy, then, you know…" He took another bite into his veg and Ste realised that was as much as he was going to get. He smiled and started on his own plate.

Declan interrupted with his own question. "So did he bring ye to meet the family? Meet the new boyfriend, like?"

"Er, not really. It's a bit complicated, but it's up to him how much he tells ya," he said.

"Right," said Declan, thoughtfully, "That sounds a bit … ominous."

"Onimus?" asked Ste, frowning.

"Like… promises to be bad… ominous."

"Oh," Ste replied, still frowning, "I don't know what to say to that."

Declan grunted. They both munched away in complicated silence for a little while before Ste asked, for conversation as much as anything, "What's that sauce there like?"

"Oh, it's nice, it's like… I dunno, but it's good, you wan…"

"What's going on here, then?" interrupted a voice Ste had been dreading since before they drove onto the ferry.

"Alright, Granddad?" Declan greeted, enthusiastically, as the ice consumed Ste's stomach, "How come you're here?"

"Oh, I just needed to check on ye. Your grandmother gets all worried, you know," Mr Bradu re[;oed. "Why the change of plan, eh?"

"You'll have to ask Dad," Declan grinned, "have ye met Ste, Granddad?"

"Once or twice, son, once or twice. I was wondering what he thinks he's doing around here?" Mr Brady's voice was kind, light, but Ste could hear the steel behind it, and it scared him.

"I'm here with Brendan. He's only over there. I'll just go and…" he tried to stand but a steel-like hand landed on his shoulder.

"Don't worry yourself, lad," he replied, "I'll just sit down here, next to ye. I'm sure a waiter can bring over a chair or something. Declan, they never notice ye in these sort of places, why don't you go get a waiter, and me and Steven, here, we'll have a little catch up."

Ste tried to stand again, his legs moving like they were on springs, "I'll…"

"Steven, anyone would think you were trying to avoid me." The hand on his shoulder forced him back down. "Declan?"

"It's fine, Ste," Declan said, wondering in the direction of the unattended bar.

Mr Brady's face was suddenly far too close.

"So, what are you doing here, little Steven?" he asked, all pretence gone.

"I told you, I'm here with Brendan, and he'll be back any minute."

"Oooh," he drew out the sound, relishing it, like Brendan often did, "you just don't learn, do ye?" Brady growled. "Back, with Brendan, after everything happened. Glutten for punishment aren't ye?"

"I didn't mean…" Ste started, but Brady interrupted him.

"Ye know, I think you like it Steven."

"You what?" Ste exclaimed.

"You… like… the violence. You liked what I did to ye. Why else would you be here?"

Ste felt smacked in the face. But Declan was returning, "You are disgusting," he whispered as viciously as he could.

Brady smirked. "Let the games begin, then. But do remember who they all believed, Steven."

"They said to just take one from over here, somewhere, so…" Declan chirped as he returned, unaware of any tension. He indicated a chair from a nearby table, and pulled it over, smiling at them both, then returning to his food with enthusiasm.

"It's good to see you again, Steven," said Brady, as though their conversation had all been as friendly.

Ste didn't answer. Instead, he stared at his food, all the appetite drained from him, desperate for Brendan's return.

* * *

><p>Brendan's plate was piled high with food. He'd let Paddy do hi own thing, but checked the boy was ready before they left the food area.<p>

Then he spotted who had joined them.

Pure rage filled him. How dare that bastard sit next to Steven, so close like that?

He dropped his plate, forgot he was holding it, and marched over. He grabbed his father's collar and dragged him from his seat. He didn't hear the alarmed 'Dad' from either of his sons as he pulled the old man angrily through and out of the restaurant. When they were out of the door, he threw him away from him.

"I told you to stay away from my family, and away from Steven!" he shouted in pure fury.

"Eileen asked us to babysit. Should I have said no to my own Grandsons?" his father teased.

"You fucking should've!" Brendan shouted.

"So you could introduce your wee boyfriend to your family, you pathetic poof?" his father taunted.

Brendan surged forward, but a hand on his chest and a familiar voice got in the way.

"Brendan! Stop, Brendan!" Steven called through his mist of red rage.

"I'm gonna kill him!" he shouted, pushing the hand away.

"Brendan! Your kids are watching!"

Brendan stopped short and stared at Steven for a moment, then looked to check it was the truth. It was. Half the restaurant were watching him, but he only registered his boys. He felt sick with himself at the sight of the shock on their faces, and when he turned back to his father he had himself under control.

"You're lucky!" he growled, "If I see you hanging around my kids or Steven again, I will kill ye. Do you hear?" The older man snarled. "DO YOU HEAR?" he repeated, his voice a shout again.

"I do what I do to protect you and yours son, and you know that!" Brady's voice was quiet but forceful, then he turned to the boys who were looking scared in the doorway of the restaurant. "Maybe you should ask your auntie Cheryl why that piece of shit isn't welcome here. Most illuminating that would be!"

Brendan surged forward again, and Steven had to physically stand between them to stop him attacking.

"Stay away!" he shouted over Steven's shoulder, as the younger man tried to guide him back into the restaurant. He allowed himself to be steered back and with a cursory "In," to his sons, they all sat back around the table again, although now with a nasty, hostile atmosphere.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Extra short, but you didn't wait long for it, did you?**

**Also, love Stug, and how gorgeous are Leah and Lucas?**

"Er, Brendan," Steven started carefully after Brendan had filled a new plate with food and they'd all sat together quietly for a while. "Have you got a plan for tonight? 'Cause we shouldn't really go back to Eileen's, and we can't really go to your Dad's so…"

Brendan scowled. His father's would have been convenient if he hadn't brought Steven. Though, of course, he had told Eileen again and again the boys were to have nothing to do with the old man. He needed to have a proper chat with her about that, and soon. But Eileen's would be the first place Michael would look.

"How do you boys fancy a night in a hotel on your old Dad?" he asked.

"A hotel in Belfast?" asked Declan, looking confused, and not impressed.

"Yeah, why not?" Brendan tried to enthuse.

"Granddad's got an x-box!" grumbled Paddy.

"Yeah, well, we'll rent a great film, and eat crisps and stuff. The stuff your Ma and Grandma would never let you do."

Steven tried to help. "Sounds good to me," he chirped enthusiastically.

Paddy glared at him. Steven looked startled by the look and Brendan's stomach knotted a little.

"Yeah, well, we're going and that's that," he announced in his best Dad voice. "Eat up, you lot!"

Everyone had seconds, but they had all lost their original fervour. Brendan paid, and then drove them all to a hotel and text the name to Eileen in case she worried. They took adjoining rooms and hired an action film on a large screen in the boys' room. Though Declan chatted away easily, laughing at the film and Steven's enthusiasm for it, Paddy was watching Steven suspiciously. But Brendan wasn't really paying attention. He was listening out for cars arriving, for people in the corridor. It was an impossible task in the busy hotel room.

* * *

><p>Eileen was having a girly night. She'd been looking forward to it for a few weeks now. A couple of good friends had come over, armed with face packs, a lot of wine, some manicure kits, and a period romance on DVD. Her friend Annie had just got back from honeymoon and they were all giggling about size and wedding outfits, and trying for babies.<p>

She had almost managed to forget those stupid phone calls. Almost.

So, maybe Brendan had a small right to be annoyed she'd sent the boys to Maggie's, but it had been planned for ages, and Eileen still wanted them to know their Grandparents. They were lucky to have some, and they had few other father figures the rest of the time. And Brendan had never given her a real reason to keep them away. And Cheryl had laughed it all off, promised her parents were the best parents and grandparents anyone could wish for.

And as for telling her to get out of her own house, what right had he to do that? What game was he playing, anyway, getting that… that chav to phone her, asking stupid questions, and then giving her orders? Brendan was the one who walked out, who left their life together, their home, their family. She hadn't asked him to. Then, out of the blue, these stupid phone calls. Well, Eileen was not going to play.

She had another sip of wine. Thankfully, Annie's anecdote about the state of the public toilets in Egypt was enough to keep the girls from noticing her annoyance.

The doorbell rang at about eight o'clock. She groaned, assuming it would be Brendan, all guns blazing. "Sorry, girls," she said, "I'd best get that. Keep the wine flowing, eh?" she put her own glass down in case it was someone she didn't want to see her drinking; like her mother or Brendan in full righteous nonsense mode. Maybe he would bring the boys home early, just to spite her and his father.

She opened the door wide, but it wasn't Brendan. It was a fair haired young man. Eileen would have guessed his age at about twenty.

"Mrs Brady?" he asked, confidently but politely. His voice was tinted with what she thought was an East London accent, but mild, smooth.

"Depends who's asking," she replied. Only associates of Brendan called her that. Or occasionally official people, like the police or social workers.

He smiled, "Sorry, my name's Michael. I'm a business associate of Brendan's. Is he here?"

"No," Eileen replied, simply.

"Oh, sorry." He smiled in a charming way. "We arranged to meet somewhere in town, and he was going to text me the address, but then my phone died, and I can't contact him, and obviously, he can't contact me, and he probably hasn't even got a clue why he can't get through." Michael paused, looking at her with childlike hopefulness, "I don't suppose you know where he is right now?"

"No! He doesn't tell my anything!" Eileen snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. And I'm so sorry to disturb your evening," the young man responded politely,and slightly flirtatiously "but he's going to be furious with me, you know. No one lets down Brendan Brady in business." He fidgeted, worriedly, but made no move to leave.

Eileen sighed. She should have known where this was going. She up played the put-upon wife "Oh, come in then. You can borrow my phone and catch up to him."

The young man smiled. "Thank you Mrs Brady. You know, you..." he emphasised the word, making even more flirty eye contact, "You, Mrs Brady, are a life saver. A truly kind lady."

"Yeah, yeah, don't lay it on too thick!" Eileen answered, as she turned back into her house, trying to remember where she'd put her mobile. She hadn't seen it since before the second bottle of red was opened. She heard Michael step over the threshold, and the door being shut firmly behind him, as she dug out her hand bag, in search of her phone.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Thanks again for reading and reviewing.**

Ste and Brendan left the boys watching Family Guy. They weren't sure it was appropriate, but Declan assured them that everyone at school watched it, and after Brendan's enormous lecture about not opening the door for anyone, ('and I mean _anyone!')_ they were too tired to argue any more.

They shut the door between the adjoining rooms and stood staring at each other in silence.

Varied thoughts and their accompanying emotions flitted through Ste's mind, warring for dominance.

Michael was still around, somewhere, unknown, planning to hurt them.

Brendan had told his step-mother the truth about what happened between Ste and Brendan's father.

Paddy didn't like him. Already.

Brendan was stood, less than a foot away from him, with his strong arms and his warm chest.

That last thought won as Ste closed the distance between them and threw his arms around Brendan's neck, feeling those wonderful strong arms close around him.

He knew that in a matter of hours he would be furious with himself. But that never seemed to matter enough. Not when Brendan was so close, so warm, so in love with him.

He felt Brendan's lips brush his hair, the gesture more paternal than romantic, and he found himself clinging on even more tightly, as if Brendan were his only life line.

"It's OK, Steven," he heard Brendan whisper; "Everything's going to be fine."

Ste laughed, gently, "Isn't it me that should be saying that to you?"

Brendan chuckled lightly, "I like being the strong one. Makes me feel manly."

Ste snorted in return "Hardly! You'd never have coped with you for this long!"

Brendan grunted. They mutually allowed the hug to end, and Brendan went to check the door and out of the window. Ste stood still, watching him. "What are we gonna do, Brendan?"

"Stop asking me that!" Brendan snapped. He ran a hand over his face, breathing deeply. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm… I'm…"

"Terrified," Ste finished for him. "Yeah, I know."

Brendan sighed and collapsed onto the bed. Ste sat quietly next to him, hoping to offer comfort.

"I was well proud of you today, you know," Ste offered.

"Why?" asked Brendan, his surprise clear on his face.

"Keeping your head screwed on, dealing with everything. Looking after me when I told you where to go, keeping your temper with everything," Ste smiled, "well, sort of," Brendan huffed a laugh at that, so Ste continued, encouraged, "letting me meet Paddy, telling your step-mum I wasn't lying."

Brendan sighed. "Yeah, I shouldn't have done that."

Ste's head spun round to stare at him, but he tried to keep his temper. "What?" he asked, carefully.

Brendan looked lost in thought, "I shouldn't have said that to Maggie. I was angry. I should have kept my temper."

The bottom fell from Ste's stomach. "Right," he said, angrily, and stood up. The movement seemed to remind Brendan who he was talking to.

"Oh, Steven, don't get all like that."

"All 'like that'!" Ste exclaimed, using his hands to show the quotation marks. "I don't believe I've bin so stupid! Coming here! Letting you back in again!"

"Come on, Steven, what would you have me do? The woman's nearly sixty. What, you want me to take away her husband? Turn her into a lonely old woman living by herself? Let her know the last thirty odd years have been a lie?"

Ste gaped at him. "So you'd rather she stayed in a sham marriage with a gay man who goes around trying to rape people?"

"He'd never hurt her," Brendan mumbled.

"HE HURT ME, BRENDAN!" The words seemed to echo around the room, and Ste felt shame for bringing this argument so close to the children through the door. He made a choice. "Right," he grabbed his coat up from where it had been tossed casually on a nearby chair. It was all he had with him. "I'm going downstairs to try to get a different room. I do NOT want you to follow me. I need to be alone. Good night Brendan!"

He stormed out of the room, hearing what he thought was a very half-heartedly pleading "Steven," follow him as he slammed the door and marched down the corridor to the lift, fuming at himself, at the situation, and at Brendan fucking Brady.

* * *

><p>Brendan was completely exhausted. He hadn't slept in two days, and completely failed to trash the hotel room, though he was sure it would have helped with how he was feeling. He managed to overturn both chairs violently, just about, before crashing onto the bed again. He grumbled to himself about righteousness and stupid nonsense morality, but was mostly remembering how wonderful it had been to hold Steven in his arms again, even under these circumstances.<p>

There was a polite knock on the door adjoining the two rooms. Brendan took a deep breath through his nose and said "Come in."

Declan opened the door cautiously.

"Hey Deccy," Brendan smiled, "What's up mate? Where's your brother?"

"He's fine, still watching Family Guy while he gets ready for bed."

"Is your door locked properly?"

Declan rolled his eyes, "Yes, Mum," he groaned and grinned cheekily.

"Whatever," Brendan sighed, not unkindly.

Declan shut the door carefully behind him and stepped further into the room. "What was all the shouting about?"

Brendan closed his eyes. "Sorry about that. He's gone now, so it won't happen again."

"Why?" Declan asked.

"What?"

"Why did you let him go?"

"What, would you have me tie him to the bed?" Brendan had to work quite hard to block that scintillating images just that phrase awakened in him. Steven would have to be more than willing, though, to make that fun.

Declan stopped. Maybe he was considering the point. But he didn't give up.

"Who hurt him?"

Brendan lifted his head. "What?"

"He shouted that someone hurt him. Who was that?" There were a few moments as Brendan tried to find an answer, but Declan didn't need one. "Was it Granddad?"

Brendan couldn't answer for some time, he was so surprised. "Why do you think that?"

"Because of how you were with him at the restaurant. I thought you were going to kill him."

Another reminder of the guilt he should feel for behaving like that in front of his sons. "Yeah, I'm sorry you saw that."

"But it was because he hurt Ste, wasn't it?" Declan pressed. He needed an answer.

Brendan had to give in. "Yeah," he said to the ceiling.

"How? Did he beat him up?" God, this kid never gave up, did he? Brendan didn't have the energy to lie.

"Worse," he said.

"Worse how?" Declan asked?

Brendan groaned, "Grown up stuff, Declan."

"I'm not a kid," the boy protested.

"Declan! Just leave it, yeah?"

"If it was so bad, though, why didn't you go to the police?"

Brendan cringed, "Steven did."

Declan thought for a moment. "They didn't believe him, though?"

Brendan didn't need to answer that one, it was obvious.

After a little more thinking time, Declan asked, "And you're sure he did it?"

"Yeah," Brendan breathed.

"So why are you arguing about it?"

Brendan grunted. Declan was too smart sometimes.

"What did you do?" the boy asked.

When did the boy get so bloody perceptive? Brendan sniffed. "Who said it was my fault?"

"Er, your face."

Cheeky git.

"Steven… he thinks I should let your grandma and Auntie Cheryl know that it happened."

"'Cause they think Ste lied?"

"Yeah."

Brendan stared at the ceiling, vaguely wondering why on Earth he just told all that to his teenage son. And why he'd let Steven out of his sight again.

"You know you're an idiot, right?"

What? Did Declan really just say that to him? The boy whose nappies he'd changed?

The lad continued. "You know Ste's right, don't ye? Like, lies are not helping anyone, are they? And can you imagine how Ste feels? That you didn't stand up for him?"

"He'll get over it…"

"But he came here, with you, knowing he'd probably have to see Granddad again, for you, 'cause he loves you, and you still can't do the right thing for him? I'm not surprised he shouted at ye!"

Brendan felt annoyed, but he wasn't sure it was directed at Declan. "I can't tell Cheryl and Maggie, it would break their hearts."

"But it's the truth! Has Cheryl been treating Ste like Grandma did earlier?"

"Worse," Brendan admitted.

"And you think Ste should just put up with that?"

Brendan stood, "Alright, Deccy, you've made your point. Go to bed now." He marched to the adjoining door and opened it for Declan to go back. The boy looked like a sulky teenager to Brendan, and as he passed his father, he muttered "Sort yourself out, Dad."

Brendan slammed the door after him. Then rethought it and opened it a little so he could hear that everything was OK in the boy's room. He lay back on the bed, but didn't sleep. He had a lot of thinking to do.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: I fear I'm getting more predictable. **

**Oh well.**

**Thanks again for all your comments.**

**"**Well you must have something!"

Ste was stood at the reception, getting very annoyed with the girl behind the counter. Despite the 'here to help' logo on her badge, she wasn't being helpful. And Ste didn't think anyone else could say 'Sir' quite as sarcastically as she did.

"We do have the honeymoon suite, sir, as I have told you a number of times."

"And I told you, I can't afford the honeymoon suite! I just need a room, with a bed. To be honest, right now I don't even care about the bed!"

"I am sorry, sir, but we can't let guests stay except in one of the official beds."

Ste let out an exasperated breath, "I know, I just mean…" He growled in frustration, "Oh, you know what, forget it. I'm going out for some fresh air and if I find a better hotel that'll be a bonus!" He turned to the door.

"Very well Mr Brady,"

"Hay!" Shouted Ste over his shoulder, but realised that would probably mean nothing to the receptionist. He scowled at all the people he passed on his way to and out of the glass doors of the hotel.

The air wasn't fresh. The hotel was on a main road. Though it was dark, cars and pedestrians still drifted by, blasting music or dressed to impress. Some of the skirts were ridiculously tiny, but all Ste thought about them was 'God, that must be cold.' He spotted a bench a short way down the road, perched next to an overflowing bin. It wasn't appealing, but it would be out of the traffic, and no one else seemed keen to sit on it.

He sat down, and let his emotions out. He felt the loneliness and the tears, the self pity, and he let himself be consumed by them for a moment. He'd been so stupid. Again. And it wasn't even like he could blame Brendan. Ste had been the one who insisted on coming. What a stupid thing to do.

But no, it was Brendan's fault; Danny was Brendan's fault, so Michael was too. But that made Ste's decision to come even worse, even more stupid, because it was not his responsibility. But then, Ste could hardly dare imagine how he would feel if Leah or Lucas were in danger. He'd had to come.

He wiped the tears from his face and sat back on the bench. He watched the people on their nights out and envied their carefree life styles. Most of them had no kids, no messed up, abusive exes they still loved for no good reason, no psychos who wanted to hurt them because of said abusive ex. He sighed. He didn't need to go back in yet, so he let his eyes fall shut and the cool night air fill his lungs.

It might have been minutes before he felt a consoling hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. He sighed again.

"Brendan, I asked you not to follow me," he moaned quietly.

The hand squeezed again, and he felt his companion take a seat next to him. He hoped his face showed enough annoyance as he opened his eyes, ready to give Brendan a piece of his mind. As he did so, the grip on his shoulder tightened.

"He did," answered Mr Brady. "He must be even more whipped than I thought."

"Oh, fuck off," Ste said, and went to stand up. The hand on his shoulder forced him back down, mostly by unbalancing him.

"Not so fast there, Steven," Brady cooed, "We have unfinished business, you and I," His hand roamed freely down Ste's arm and then landed on his inner thigh.

"Get off me!" cried Ste, trying to throw the hand off.

Brady laughed at him, "Yeah, I knew you wanted it."

Ste snapped, "Get off me, you crazy old bastard!" He threw the hand off his leg and managed to elbow Brady in the stomach in the same move. He stood up to face him. "This hasn't even got anything to do with you, right, so why don't you go back to your happy little wife who doesn't know what a waste of space you are and leave us alone, 'cause in case you've forgotten, you didn't manage what you tried with me, right, 'cause you're just a pathetic old man. So go home, yeah?"

Ste paused to catch the reaction to his words. Brady stayed annoyingly calm, but he did stand up. Ste thought he was hoping to press his height advantage, or maybe he just didn't like being shouted down at. It didn't impress Ste though, who just spun on his heels, ready to walk back to the hotel now.

That was when he felt something cold and sharp pressing into the lower part of his back, just where his jacket had ridden up higher than his trousers as he'd been sitting. He didn't recognise the sensation but he could take a pretty good guess.

He felt Brady move to his side, and the blade followed, pressing still very gently against his skin. When Brady had a good view of Ste's face, he came to a stop and whispered, "I didn't forget that, no Steven, so I brought something to help swing the balance my way. Why don't you check it out ever so slowly? Take a look, but keep your hands exactly where they are."

Ste ducked his head to look at the knife now resting just above his hip. He felt himself start to shake at the sight of the cruel metal touching his skin. It looked like some sort of flick knife, and Ste could feel from the way it pricked his skin that it would be very effective.

He looked forward again, keeping as still as possible. "We're in public. People can see us, loads of them."

Brady grinned. "I just pulled a knife on you and not one of the noticed. They don't care Steven. Now, fold your arms as though you're cold."

Ste frowned and looked around him. Brady was right; no one was looking and Brendan wasn't expecting him back that night.

He followed the order.

"Good boy," cooed Brady. The arm holding the knife slid around Ste's body and under his T shirt, until it pressed into Ste's other hip and then onto the side of his stomach. It was a clever move. At first glance Brady would look like Ste's older lover, being possessive and protective, while copping a feeling. And no one was going to look twice. "Now," Brady continued, "let's go this way."

He guided Ste forward along the street still dotted with partiers. Ste looked hopefully at the hotel door as he passed, but going that way would involve walking straight into the knife, and there was no one in sight who would even think to question him and Brady.

Ste quickly realised they were heading for the car park, and that Brady must have been following them since the restaurant. He silently cursed himself for not noticing. They passed Brendan's car and many others before they reach a black BMW. It was clearly old, but in good condition. Brady stopped.

"Now this bit's a little trickier," he said, "Are you gonna behave or do I have to put you in the boot?"

God, he'd never escape from the boot. Maybe if he looked broken enough, Brady would drop his guard. He stared at the floor. "I'll behave," he mumbled.

Brady considered him for a moment. "Let's check that answer shall we?"

The arm receded quite slowly. Ste forced his muscles not to tense, not to look too much like he was preparing to run. But Brady's next move was too quick anyway. He forcibly pushed Ste against the car, winding him, and spun him round so they were face to face. The knife was still in his hand which was now resting against Ste's chest. Ste was hyper aware of its presence, holding him still without the smallest bit of effort on Brady's part.

To Ste, Brady looked almost mad. His expression was gleeful. The power was exciting him. His face was getting closer and closer, and then he whispered, "I'd like you to kiss me now Steven."

"Er, no!" Ste replied, without thinking and in his chaviest voice.

Pain suddenly blossomed in his stomach. It was the type of pain he recognised from experience and he was relieved by it. The hand holding the knife hadn't moved. The other hand had formed a fist that had landed forcefully on his belling, winding him anew. He started to fold to protect himself, but Brady held him up.

"I think that was the wrong answer Steven. Would you like to try again?"

Ste was breathless. He stood still, trying to think through the feelings. He didn't want to play this man's games, but was he willing to risk his life to avoid it? Maybe. And he certainly wasn't going to participate in his own rape. But he had no idea how he would escape.

"I can't," he whispered, tears in his eyes.

Brady glared. Ste's fear was still exciting him, but he'd clearly expected Ste to just submit with the aid of the weapon. He wasn't patient though, and the hand that had just punched Ste suddenly fisted in his hair and the knife rose to his throat.

"I don't think you understand this situation, Steven," Brady growled. "I have a knife to your throat, and I am giving you an order. Let me make it even clearer. You do as I say or I cut you. If you really get on my nerves, you die. Do you understand that?"

The hand in his hair prevented him from nodding, so instead, he whispered, "I understand."

"Good," growled Brady, and forced his lips to Ste's.

Ste had been kissed by Brady before, but that time he'd fought, had pushed the older man off and thumped him. This time he could do nothing. He felt the cold steel against his neck, and submitted.

Brady made a victorious sound as he felt Ste give way. He forced his tongue between Ste's lips, pulling the younger man's head towards him by his short hair.

Ste felt sick with himself. God, he wished Brendan had followed him. Or that he just hadn't gone off in a strop. Or even better, stayed in Hollyoaks.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" interrupted a dangerous voice to Ste's right.

Ste stopped breathing. Brady broke away and stared at the new arrival in surprise.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

Michael Houston was unfazed by the question.

"Fuck," murmured Ste.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I do get bored when they're not on the show. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! They really make my day!**

Michael was not alone. Four big men had accompanied him on this trip of intimidation. Ste was petrified, glued to the spot. How far away was Brendan? Was there a chance he could get there in time?

Brady had hidden the knife the moment he heard the voice. Ste wished he'd kept it out.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" the old man repeated aggressively. It took Michael's amused attention for the moment, and Ste followed his first instinct. He made a run for it, right at the nearest gap in Michael's henchmen. He didn't know where he was going; he could hardly lead them all to the hotel room where the boys would be settling in for bed, but maybe he could lose them long enough to get a message to Brendan and even find a good hiding place.

The thoughts didn't matter though. One of the thugs had clocked his movement and had stepped into his path. A large hand closed around his throat, almost lifting him off his feet. He tugged on that restraining hand with both of his but it made no difference. He sputtered as his air way was cut off, and his face grew hot and painful as all the blood in his head seemed to stop travelling.

"Careful, Dave," Michael admonished, "It's not worth it if Brendan doesn't get to watch." He took a step towards Ste, smiling, "Remember, seeing the love of his life die painfully as payment for his crimes."

The hand on Ste's throat loosened, and his arms were grabbed instead, but Ste was struggling in earnest at the words. The bloke who held him, though, was well over six feet tall and easily three times as wide as Ste. Even so, Ste heard him shout "Give us a hand! He's like a fucking eel!"

"Ste!" Michael shouted at him, "Behave. It will take twice as long if I have to drug you. And isn't it supposed to noble to die for true love, or some shit like that?"

"But he doesn't love me, does he?" Ste cried and then pointed at Brady, "he chose him, he chose that bastard, and he always has and he always will!" He didn't know if he was talking out of fear for himself or a genuine sense of unfairness; that he was going to die like this when it wouldn't even affect Brendan. He sagged against the arms that held him as he felt a rope slip over his hands and tighten, binding his arms together in front of him. The sight of it started his tears.

Michael made a derogatory sound. "Is that right? Brendan chose this old man over an arse like yours? I don't think so." He surveyed Brady, "Who is he anyway?"

"That's none of your business," snarled Brady.

"I'd like an answer now, Steven," Michael ordered, unfazed.

The goon next to the one holding Ste, who had slipped the rope over his arms, grabbed a finger of Ste's hand, "Tell us who the old man is," he grunted, and bent the finger backwards, but at that moment, Ste wasn't feeling loyal.

"He's Brendan's father!" Ste cried, hating the way the pain in his finger made his voice sound high and week.

Brady snarled at him, but Ste was beyond caring. The only comfort was that if Michael was here, he wasn't hurting Amy or the kids. His or Brendan's kids. Or Brendan he reluctantly admitted to himself. The thought calmed him a little.

Then Michael started laughing. "So what was all that about just now? Snogging on the car?"

"None of your fucking business," Brady growled again, and Ste stared at the floor. Michael ignored the old man. "Ste we've still got nine, super easy ways to make you talk before we even have to take your shoes off. Or get the pliers out."

Ste hesitated a moment longer. The goon took his hand again, and the threat was enough. "You already know!" he shouted.

The goon looked at Michael to check if he should continue. "What do you mean?" Michael growled.

"Cheryl, the blond woman in the pub who shouted at me. She's Brendan's sister. She was talking about him." He hoped that was enough. He didn't want all these people to know, even if he was going to die within minutes.

Michael frowned, clearly thinking for a while. Ste couldn't meet his eyes. Then Michael started to laugh, and Ste felt more tears prickling at his eyes.

"Oh, Ste," cackled Michael. He looked at his gang, smirking. "This old man here, raped little Steven!"

"NO!" Ste protested, "He tried, but he didn't!"

Michael laughed even harder, and this time his goons joined in. Ste made another attempt to run but knew it was pointless with those hands still holding on to him firmly.

"Chill out, Ste," Michael laughed, "I might be having a change of heart." He turned to his followers, "You three take the old man there and his car to the place we agreed. Dave can drive Ste and me. I don't think he'll be a problem."

Brady, who up until that point had been very still, suddenly decided to act. It was probably because he realised the danger was dangerous to him too, not just Ste. He punched the nearest guy and tried to make a run for his car door. He was over taken by all three thugs who landed on him, knocking him to the floor in seconds and beating him mercilessly. He howled in pain. When they stopped, he looked barely able to stand. The hands on Ste had tightened painfully, but the visual display had been enough to keep him placid for now. Just Michael and a driver were far better odds.

"Maybe he'd be better off travelling in the boot, lads," Michael said, conversationally, observing the injured sixty-year old emotionlessly. "Straight there, and no dilly-dallying," he smirked.

One of his men found Brady's keys in the first pocket he tried, and Ste watched the other two pick the old man off the floor and stuff him into the boot of his own car, shutting it firmly over him, before climbing into the seats themselves. The goon holding Ste pushed him onwards, until they reached a flash looking Lexus. Before the thug let go, Michael checked Ste's pockets for his phone, which he dropped into his own pocket. The back door was then opened and Ste pushed across to the far side as Michael got in next to him. He tired the opposite door half heartedly, and of course it failed to open. Michael laughed at his efforts. "As if I'd let that happen, but just to be sure…" He took one of Ste's still bound arms and threaded the seatbelt through the gap, fastening it in. It wouldn't trap Ste completely, but it would make any escape attempt take too long to work.

The engine started, and a strange look crossed Michael's face as he ran a hand through Ste's hair.

"You know, the original plan wasn't to kill you," he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. Ste didn't respond but Michael continued anyway, "No, it was just to make Brendan's life a living hell as revenge for his crimes. And it was fun too, at first. But then you had to go and pull that stunt with the pills, and it all changed. I never dreamt you'd follow Brendan to Ireland after everything, so I thought I could send him on a wild goose chase and get you back under control. But you had to surprise me yet again. So plan C came about; execution of the love of Brendan's life, and him with front row seats. Took a bit of organising too. It was tricky at short notice and out of my patch, but I did it. But now... now I'm thinking plan D might be more… poetic.

Ste stared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

Michael smiled and squeezed Ste's thigh, making Ste try unsuccessfully to jerk away. "I know you don't" he laughed, pulling out Ste's phone.

* * *

><p>Brendan had taken to staring at his phone in a daze, completely uncertain if he should ring Steven or not. Would he just shout at him? Would Brendan make it worse?<p>

Maybe he should just sleep. He had been awake for a good fourty hours now, and there was no way he'd say the right things.

The buzzing of his phone made the decision for him. Steven's name appeared on the screen as it lit up and he stared at it again, a strange sense of dread creeping up on him, that had nothing to do with their argument. Why was Steven calling from downstairs?

He accepted the call. "Steven?" he croaked.

"Brendan!" greeted Michael, cheerfully. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Pure fear struck Brendan like ice to his heart and he stopped breathing.

"I guess you're wondering how I found you?" Michael continued. That had been the last thing on Brendan's mind, after 'Where the hell is Steven?' and images of all the things Brendan would do if he was injured. "Well, your lovely wife was very helpful. She just read out your text. Most convenient that, thanks."

Brendan's brain managed to form words. Just.

"Where's…"

"Steven? Eileen? Our exciting mystery guest? Take your pick, Brendan."

Brendan actually sobbed, surprising himself. "Please, let me talk to them, make sure their OK."

"Weeell," said Michael, stretching out the vowel sound like a builder considering a quote that was going to make him rich, "I've only got one of them in reaching distance at the moment, and I'm not certain they're in a speaking mood."

"Please!" Brendan begged.

Michael laughed in delight. "You sound so broken! Ha! Hard man, Brendan Brady, crying into a phone. We'll see if he wants to chat, though I must warn you, he's a little tied up right now." Michael laughed at his own joke, but the laugh faded slightly as, Brendan assumed, he moved the phone to whoever he had with him.

"Steven?" Brendan gasped, hopelessly.

He thought he heard a faint sniffing at the other end of the line, but no one answered, "Steven?" he asked again, more urgently.

Michael's laughing had stopped. "Ste," he said warningly, "this is where you prove you're alive and in my car, so Brendan does as I ask. I hoped I didn't need to persuade you."

The sniffling continued, but otherwise there were a few moments of silence from the phone. Then, suddenly, it was broken by Michael's voice. "I asked nicely Ste." Then Steven's voice cried suddenly in pained surprise. Michael's pleased voice got closer to the phone again, "You heard that, didn't you Brendan?"

"I'm gonna kill you!" Brendan shouted, Steven's cry wounding him to the core.

"I don't think so, Brendan! I think you're gonna do exactly as you're told. New plan, new address. You've got twenty minutes before we start the fun without you. And I hope you're ready for our surprise special guest. I'm just buzzing!"

The line cut off suddenly, and without the sound of Steven's soggy breathing, Brendan briefly thought he'd gone deaf. Oh, God, he had the boys next door.

He ran into their room. Paddy was in bed, clearly nearly asleep. Declan was up, but had got into some pyjamas. Both turned to look at him expectantly when he barged in. He strode straight to the main door. Declan hadn't lied; it was locked, but anyone could get in with a card. Steven had had a card, and if Mickey could take his phone, he could take that too. There was a writing desk against one wall. It would have to do. He shoved it in front of the door, then turned to the boys.

"Do not open this door for anyone. Not your mother, not your grandparents, not Steven. You can answer it to me, or if I'm not back by tomorrow night, to the police, but no one else. Do you understand?"

Both boys looked shocked. "Why?" asked Declan.

"Just do it, OK?"

"But…"

"Do as I tell you!" he shouted. He spotted a bedside table and he dragged it as close to the adjoining door as he could. "When I am gone, you push this up as close to this door as you can, and you lock it, alright?"

"Alright, but…"

"Good," he stepped back through the door.

"Dad!" cried Paddy. "Where are you going? What's going on?"

Brendan felt the tears fall down his cheeks. He strode back to Paddy, who now looked completely terrified, and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm sorry son." He whispered. "I love you."

"Dad?" whispered Paddy, as Brendan moved away and did the same to Declan. Then he forced himself to walk out. He stood by the door, listening for a moment. "Lock the door and move that thing!" he shouted. He heard feet and the sound of a lock, then the movement of the furniture. "Good boys! I love you both."

Then he ran all the way out of the hotel.


	20. Chapter 20

The roads Ste was travelling down were getting darker and darker. They were leaving Belfast and, Ste guessed, on the less monitored routes; side streets, B-roads. They passed some very dark buildings, empty he assumed, then pulled into one, driving right inside through a huge door into a spacious lit area. The moment the engine turned off he tried the door again. Of course it didn't open, and Michael gave him a withering look. He unwound Ste's seat belt from his arms, and took Ste's arm as his door opened, and pulled him out that way, keeping a careful hold of him.

The other goons stood waiting by Brady's car, but there was no sign of the man himself. Maybe he was still in the boot. There were only two goons left. Hadn't there been three before?

Michael noticed too.

"Where the fuck is Billy?" he demanded angrily.

One of the thugs folded his arms. "He said you was fucking crazy and weren't even gonna make any money from this, so how were you gonna pay us? He don't think you can, so he left."

Michael face turned to thunder. "He did what?"

"Can you pay us, though? It's not like Danny left you any money is it?"

Michael looked ready to explode in his face, and in his anger his thoughts had left Ste. The hand on his arm had slackened, and Ste didn't give a shit who got paid. He span round and ran the way the cars had come in. He could hear four sets of footsteps pounding the concrete floor behind him, chasing him. He could see the huge warehouse doors the cars had driven through ahead of him.

They were closed.

He hadn't noticed them close the doors. Maybe they were automatic. He couldn't see a button or anything, so he ran for the place where they me. He grabbed the edge with as much of his bound fingers as he could and pulled. The doors barely moved. "Come on!" he shouted, but they weren't listening. He put his whole body weight into it. They moved an inch. Too little, too late.

The first fist crashed into the side of his head, knocking it back against the solid doors. Another punch landed on his abdomen, and he covered his head with his hands, cowering against the door. Someone grabbed his arm and dragged him back across the room. He struggled weakly, but his head pounded and he was gasping for breath. He was thrown into something solid, knocking his head again and dazing him. He felt someone untie his hands and tried to stand to run again, but failed. When his vision cleared again, he realised his hands were now tied to a rusty old pillar. He pulled against them, trying to bed his hands to find a knot, and he felt himself giving up. Tears fell from his eyes, but he refused to make a sound. He leant his head against the pillar, exhausted.

Michael knelt down beside him, checking his bonds. He had an odd smile on his face. He brushed Ste's face gently, then wiped away some of the tears. "You know," he said, "you do look pretty like this, all broken and scared and vulnerable." He took a gentle hold of Ste's chin, pushing his face up so their eyes met, "That was a stupid thing to do. You just stay put and this will all be over before you know it. And, you never know, I might decide to keep you."

Ste, who'd barely acknowledged the first part of that speech, looked up at that. Keep him? Was he not going to kill him? Or maybe he would do both, turn him into some sort of disgusting trophy? Ste couldn't tell from Michael's expression, as he stroked his lips thoughtfully.

"Danny wasn't no poof, neither."

It was the same thug who had mentioned Danny before, suggesting Michael couldn't pay them. He'd said it in a soft grumble, but in the empty warehouse it had echoed plainly through the room.

Michael's face barely changed, but it did seem to freeze. He turned slowly and stared at the offending yob, as though he'd never seen anything quite like him before, as a biologist might stare at a completely new sort of creature.

Then he shot him.

The sound echoed nastily around the warehouse, as the yob hit the ground. One of the men swore loudly. Ste let out an involuntary yell.

Michael looked at him coldly, then at the other two men. "Either of you got any more problems?"

"No boss."

"Not me boss."

"Good," Michael smiled, putting the gun back into his belt, "now we just need to await the star of our show."

Ste tugged and tugged at his hands. Nothing.

* * *

><p>Brendan drove like a maniac. The address Michael had sent was in an obscure industrial estate just outside the city. He suspected most of it was empty, and all of it would probably be deserted by this time. Which was what Michael needed he guessed.<p>

He cursed himself again and again for letting Steven out of the hotel room. He was stupid, naive, and pathetic not to stop him. How did getting a hotel room possibly suggest they were safer? Michael would have suspected that straight away, and now Steven was paying the price for that stupid, stupid decision.

He'd called Eileen, and she'd answered quickly, biting his head off for 'yet again interrupting girly night.' He'd asked her where she was and she'd called him a four letter word, and said there was no way she was walking out of her own house on the say of her ex husband without a bloody good reason.

"Did anyone come over Eileen?" he'd asked, resignedly.

"Yes, Brendan, your poor wee friend Michael, scared of not finding ye. God knows why you'd expect him to come all the way over here just for…"

He hung up on her. He could guess the rest. So Michael was just trying it on, saying he'd got Eileen. It was just Steven now.

Just Steven? Michael might as well have stolen the sun.

The road was so dark, almost pitch black. He could see the outlines of large buildings against the slight glow of the city, but little else. He worried if he would find the right place, but there was only one lit up slightly. He could see a faint glow through a tiny window, metres in the air. He found the open gate and drove up towards the building, pulling the car over slowly, giving himself time to think. He couldn't see much once he'd turned off the engine and the headlights, but he spotted a slight shade change in the wall. A door, he guessed. He approached it and banged on it.

After a few seconds, an electric buzzing started and the door pulled back to reveal two men, looking menacing. He recognised one who used to do some of Danny's dirty work, Dave he thought. He nodded at him in recognition.

"Gents," he said.

"In there," Dave growled and stepped aside.

Brendan stepped carefully inside and heard the electronic sound again as the doors closed behind him. He found himself in a large room, empty except for two cars and a handful of pillars that held up an ancient balcony at the far end, one of which seemed to have a pile of cloth leaning against its base. He looked around himself again, wondering if he'd got the wrong place, or if this was all part of Michael's pathetic game plan. God knew what he was capable of.

Movement caught his eye. The pile of cloth shifted and groaned. Steven.

"Steven," he breathed and tried to run to him, but two hands had grabbed his arms. "Get off me!" he screamed, fighting like a wild animal, pulling and twisting and kicking and hitting. He managed to get an arm free and elbowed one of the men in the face, but the goon caught him again before he could get out of the grasp of the other. He was punched and kicked but he didn't stop fighting. He could see Steven struggling, pulling at what seemed to be rope on his hands, then a figure approaching him. Steven froze at the sight, but Brendan only fought harder.

"You stay the fuck away from him! If you touch him, I will kill ye, do you hear me? I'll fucking kill ye!"

Then he heard the shot.

It made him freeze. Michael had aimed at the ceiling but then slowly pointed the gun at Steven, putting the first finger of his left hand to his lips. The message was clear. Brendan glared at him, but stayed still and listened.

Michael smiled a greeting. "Brendan," he said, "I hoped you'd come. Sorry about the little white lie, but something Ste here said made me worry you wouldn't show just for him."

Brendan just snarled. He'd have done anything for Steven, but he wasn't going to help letting Michael know that now.

"But don't worry; we have a special guest appearance too, in case the draw of Steven isn't enough."

Brendan frowned, clueless. Michael looked around, a little annoyed. "Hmm, this would have been more dramatic if Billy was still here. Or if I hadn't shot Max. O well."

He transferred the gun to his left hand, still pointing at Steven, then walked to the boot of one of the cars. He let his gaze drop to what he was doing, as he opened the boot and pulled out Brendan's battered looking father by the scruff of his neck.

The old man made an instant attempt to run, but the gun was levelled at him the moment Michael clocked the movement.

"Welcome back, Mr Brady," Michael smiled.

Brendan's father behaved. He was scared. More scared than Brendan had ever seen him.

"I'd like you to stand right there Mr Brady. It would be very annoying if I have to shoot you before I even get to play with Brendan."

Brady seemed to spot Brendan for the first time. Brendan tried to keep his face unreadable. He had a good idea where this was going, and if he played it right, maybe, just maybe, he could save what he cared about. His father seemed to come to a realisation too. His whole demeanour changed. He suddenly spoke to Brendan in the way he'd spoken to Cheryl all those times. The way Brendan had craved as a child. "Son? Are you alright there, son?"

Brendan worked hard not to roll his eyes. "It's alright Dad, I'll get you out of here."

Michael laughed aloud and looked at Steven, triumph in his eyes. "So," he said, "looks like I've got all the cards, Brendan. And it's time for your punishment. You, Brendan Brady, are hereby charged with the murder of Danny Houston. Now, time for your sentence."

Brendan forced his face to show misery. He needed to play this right. But Michael had that strange smile; the smile of someone who knew how to win.

"But I'm a generous kind of guy, Brendan! You see, I'm going to kill one of these two people, right in front of you, for the pleasure of seeing the look on your face. But I couldn't decide which one. In the blue corner, we have Steven, the mouthy but pretty young lover, the one for whom we are here, the cause of these awful things. Taking him from you would be not just painful, but so poetic. It would be like showing you the ultimate futility of your actions, teach you that you cannot win against us, that Steven would die anyway, and that you can do nothing to stop it!

"But then, in the red corner, we have Mr Brady senior, your dearest Daddy, the man you even betrayed your Steven for. Now, that whole eye for an eye thing, I can get on board with that. Biblical, isn't it? Fire and brimstone. But ..." Michael grinned like a child in a sweetshop, "what to chose? The poetic or the biblical? The true revenge or the lesson in futility? Father or lover? I just can't decide. So I thought, you could. Who do you love more? Who, Brendan Brady, do you want to save? Michael had the audacity to wink at him. "See I told you I was generous, didn't I?"


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thanks again for the lovely reviews. They really make my day.**

The silence in the warehouse was deafening. Ste thought that even the cars travelling past on the distant motorway had stopped. He stared at Brendan, desperate for some connection, to remind them both how they'd got there, in desperate hope that he could get them home.

But Brendan wouldn't look at him. He was staring at Michael, his face blank, emotionless.

"Come on, Brendan. You only get to save one." Michael was grinning psychotically, as though he'd never had so much fun. "Who do you love the most Brendan?"

Ste felt his stomach twist painfully and he knew what Brendan was going to say, even before it was whispered.

"Please don't kill my father."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! "

He could hear the same word repeated again and again, over and over, then realised it was him. He heard footsteps and delighted laughter approaching him, and he dragged himself as far away as he could from the sound, so the pillar was between them. He could see Michael through the tears, his hideous grin that seemed to grow as he approached, taking his time, gun in his hand.

"Poor little Steven," he chirruped, crouching by Ste, "all of that to find out like this." Putting his mouth close to his ear he hissed on, "he doesn't care about you, Steven. He probably never has. He's chosen your rapist over you. You were just weak, and convenient, someone he could have power over." Michael stroked his face. "You're mine now," he whispered, tenderly, "there's nothing else for you."

He kissed Ste on the lips, lightly, then stood up straight, smirking at Brendan. The smirk turned into a smile, then a grin, and he strode back towards Brady.

The old man's expression had been triumphant, but at Michael's move he began to look perplexed as if wondering what was happening, and as Michael returned to him, he set himself up, ready, schooling his face to an expression of strength and power. Ste could see both men past the pillar and through the tears in his eyes, but he could do nothing but watch, watch the gun swinging in Michael's hand, getting closer and closer to Brady, Michael's hand as he raised the weapon, and pointed it to the side of the old man's head, then faced Brendan with a self satisfied smirk.

"As if I'd let you chose," he said.

Ste barely saw the movement. It had been well planned on Brady's part. Even Ste had forgotten about the knife until he saw the handle poking out from Michael's chest, as if it had sprouted there. Michael barely seemed to notice the pain in his surprise.

"Fuck," he said as his hand grasped the nearest object before he collapsed.

The nearest object was the gun and he squeezed the trigger. It was still pointed at Brady.

Ste thought he stopped breathing as he stared in horror at the two men lying in blood just metres from him. Then he started struggling again in the ropes, but they held unfairly firmly. Suddenly Brendan was with him, fighting against the ropes too, but his approach was calmer. He found the knot and untied it, but Ste could do little but shout at him.

"Get away from me! Leave me alone!"

But Brendan ignored his words. Instead he untied Ste's arms and engulfed the younger man in his own, not letting him move away. Ste wept bitterly against him, intermittently struggling to push him off, but feeling too exhausted.

"You chose him! Let go of me!" Ste eventually cried, and felt Brendan's arms tighten at the words.

"No! No I didn't," the older man sobbed.

"You did, I heard you! Get the fuck away from me!"

"Steven," Brendan groaned as Ste gave a mighty push that forced him to back off, "Michael wanted to hurt me! He wanted to know who I loved so he could hurt me the most. You saw that, Steven! If I'd said you, you would be dead. I _love_ you. I love _you_! I've never loved anyone like this. The boys and you, you're all that I care about, Steven. It's just you!"

He grasped Ste's face, but Ste couldn't meet his eyes. He couldn't be sure. He didn't know what to believe.

The two men who had been holding Brendan were running. They'd got into Michael's car and were speeding off, wheels and brakes screaming as they went. Brendan took Ste's hand. "We've got to get out of here," he whispered, and pulled Ste towards the door.

"Brendan," a voice croaked, quietly.

They both froze, uncertain if they had heard the voice. "Brendan," it repeated, though this time his voice was softer, more pleading. Both men turned slowly, and stared.

Brady lay on the round, perfectly still except for one hand that reached out to them. As they watched, the hand dropped.

Both men stared in shock. It took a few seconds of silence before Brendan voiced their thoughts.

"We could just go. No one would find them 'til the morning, earliest. We could go and never look back."

It sounded heartless, cruel, leaving an old man to suffer and die alone. Ste couldn't tell where the blood was coming from, but there was so much. Brady had little chance of surviving. Without their help. But Ste understood what Brendan was offering. He was trying to show him who he chose, that he loved Ste, and if Ste asked for this, he would give it to him. And Ste was sorely tempted.

But he could never ask that. "I never wanted him dead, Brendan. Call an ambulance."

Brendan nodded, but didn't take out his own phone. He crouched by his father and took the old man's mobile from his trouser pocket, told him where they were, then dialled for him and placed it next to his head.

The old man looked confused, as Brendan stood still and silent, waiting. When someone answered Brady gasped and grunted through where he was and what had happened to him. He didn't mention Brendan or Ste, and when he'd finished, Brendan ended the call, but left the phone by his father's head.

Brendan took Ste's hand again, but stared coldly at his father.

"If you mention either of us being here, we'll both say it was you who made it all happen. You tell whoever finds you that you had no idea what he wanted, that he forced you into your own boot and drove you here, but if you link Steven or me to this, you will live to regret it."

Before they left, Brendan wandered to Michael's still body. "Where did he put your phone?" he asked.

"Er, left trouser pocket I think," Ste answered.

Brady fished it out, touching as little as possible on the way, walked back to Ste and led him out to the car.

It was very dark outside, and the journey back to the hotel was quiet and strange. Ste didn't know what he thought anymore. At one point he asked Brendan what he wanted to happen now. Brendan replied. "Sleep. For ages."

**AN: A couple more chapters yes?**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks again for the reviews. Maybe 1 or 2 more chapters then. x**

After Brendan had let his quite terrified sons know that everything was OK (not mentioning their grandfather obviously) Ste called Amy and told her the crisis was over, though he was still in Belfast. She hadn't realised he was in Belfast, but accepted that it wasn't the right time to have that discussion now, though made him swear that he would be tell her everything the moment he got back.

He turned back to Brendan. He seemed to have passed out on the bed.

"Brendan?" he tried, but got no response. "Brendan?" he repeated a little louder, shaking his arm a little. The older man groaned. "Brendan, what are we gonna do?"

Brendan actually laughed. "I'm gonna sleep," he croaked, "you do what you want, but I'm not letting you out of my sight for the next century." He closed his eyes, then opened them again. "Actually, you go to sleep too. Or I'll tie you to the bed."

Ste half laughed. "After tonight I'd probably scream my head off if you tried."

Brendan sighed. "Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. But we need to sleep. I haven't slept since the day before yesterday, and you must be exhausted."

Ste thought about it. "We need to talk Brendan."

"And we'll still need to talk in the morning. So let's do it then."

Ste didn't want to concede, but lay down on the bed as far away from Brendan as he could anyway. The feeling of the soft mattress underneath him pointed out that Brendan was right. Accepting the sleep was wonderful and so quick.

When he woke briefly in the night, Brendan's arm was holding him close, and their legs were intertwined. He probably should have cared more about that.

.xxxxx…..x….

They were woken by the hotel phone, and it took them a while to wake up enough to answer it.

"Good morning, Mr Brady," greeted a pleasant voice, "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but a lady is at reception asking for you. She says she is the mother of your children."

Ste groaned, "Brendan, Eileen's here. Or Amy, but it's probably Eileen."

Brendan leant over and took the phone, "Send her up."

Then he hung up.

Ste struggled out of bed, but Brendan pulled him back in.

"Brendan! She's gonna be here in seconds!"

"So? She's only here for the boys. Probably."

"Yeah, but it might be better if she doesn't think we've been shagging in the room next to them."

Brendan frowned. "There's been a disappointing lack of that for a while now."

Ste didn't laugh. "We've got to look acceptable when she arrives, Brendan."

"Alright, I'm up!" And he rolled out of bed, and looked down at his clothed form. "Hmm, I'm decent already."

Ste laughed then, "Well, I'm not sure about that."

Brendan threw a pillow at him.

There was a violent knocking at the door. "Brendan? Brendan? Let me in!"

Brendan groaned, and opened it. "Morning Eileen,"

Eileen strolled right in to the room. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been calling you all morning. Oh."

She stared at Ste, then at the one bed, then back at Ste. Ste looked back at her, challenging her to comment.

"Were you banging on the door for fun, Eileen, or did you actually want something?"

Eileen looked back at him. "The hospital rang. Brendan, your father was shot last night. He's in the hospital in a bad way."

Brendan seemed too tired to act. "Oh," he said.

There was a silence in the room.

After a few moments Eileen said "'Oh'? What do you mean 'oh'? Your father's been shot Brendan!"

Brendan looked at the floor. After another few moments of silence, Ste asked, "What happened?"

"They don't know. Are you going down the hospital or what?"

Brendan paused a bit longer. "No," he said, "My father deserves everything he gets. And I don't want the boys going either. He's an evil man Eileen."

Eileen looked stunned. "Are you being serious?" She asked, "What if they never get to say good bye to their granddad?"

Brendan didn't flinch. "Then they'll be lucky," he answered.

Eileen looked shocked. Ste thought she was going to start shouting at him. But she didn't. "Brendan," she said, "You've never told me why!"

She glanced at Ste with a questioning look. "Don't look at me," Ste said, "he never told me either. I found out for myself."

Eileen stared back at Brendan, then at Ste.

"Is one of you going to tell me why I'm supposed to stop my sons knowing their grandparents? You do know it's supposed to be me avoiding the in-laws, not you avoiding your parents."

There was more silence in the hotel room.

"Cheryl says he's wonderful!" Eileen insisted.

Still, neither Brendan nor Ste seemed able to say a word.

"Did he abuse you Brendan?"

Brendan breathed out, slowly.

"But Cheryl swears he never laid a finger on either of you."

Ste answered that. "Cheryl's a woman, though, isn't she?"

Eileen screwed up her face in confusion. "What on earth do…"

She stopped midsentence, staring at Brendan. "Oh my God, was it… was it sexual?"

"No!" Brendan exclaimed, "he never…" he caught Ste's eye. "He never did that to me," he finished, more gently.

Eileen took a few moments to figure out where he was looking. Ste stared at the floor. "I'll just, er… go next door, watch TV with the boys for a bit," he told the floor. And did just that.

…xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…..

An hour or so later, Brendan came into the boys' room. Ste and Brendan's sons hadn't really chatted, just watched some rubbish on the telly, but Brendan's mood seemed better.

"Come on, then, you lot," he said without preamble. "We've got to find me and Steven some less smelly clothes, and then we've got a busy day ahead of us."

"Where are we going?" Ste asked, having expected to return to Hollyoaks straight away.

"It's a surprise."

They walked to the car, then drove out of the city, stopping briefly to buy a change of clothes for Ste and Brendan. The journey lasted a couple of hours, Declan and Paddy arguing in the back about where they would get to have lunch.

Ste started spotting brown signs on the road, but didn't really read them until they actually drove into a car park.

"The Giant's Causeway?" he asked, surprised. "What are we doing here?"

"Day trip," Brendan shrugged, "it's like a world beauty spot or heritage place or something."

"Alright," said Ste, still frowning a little, and got out of the car. The boys followed suit, Paddy grumbling that he'd been here just a month ago with school and it was boring, Declan rolling eyes. Ste insisted on paying for parking, as the boys made their way straight to the gift shop, (Brendan admitting to slipping them both a tenner). They emerged a couple of minutes later, laden with crisps and sweets and fizzy drinks; the kind of things that made a walk around a world heritage site bearable for teenagers, and the set off.

They looked at rocks.

But Ste had to admit, the place was beautiful. And strange. Even with the other tourists milling about. Declan and Paddy had run off ahead, and Brendan suddenly took Ste's hand.

Ste stared at the hands, then checked to see if anyone was looking. A handful did stare, and Ste guessed there was no way to stop that happening. He checked Brendan for signs of anger at the looks. He saw frown lines, like the look you might give stray clouds on your wedding day, but he marvelled at how far Brendan had come from running out on a date because Ste dared to take his hand in public. That made what he had to do that much harder.

He didn't move his hand, but he felt Brendan stiffen the moment he started speaking.

"Brendan…"

Brendan didn't look at him. "Steven?"

"I don't… I don't know if I want this."

Brendan was silent, but his hold on Ste's hand grew tighter. Eventually he said, "I don't want to lose you Steven."

Ste understood, but he couldn't stop.

"But…"

"I can't lose you Steven. I physically can't. It's like I'm attached to you, whatever I do, where ever I am, you're there in my head, and I can't… I can't leave you alone."

And there it was, the obsession, verging on stalking, and though Ste knew he should be running for the hills. He also knew that he felt exactly the same way.

They walked on together in silence a little longer, watching the boys dare each other to climb on things they probably shouldn't, Ste thinking deeper and deeper about what he should do.

He could see all the things Brendan had done for him, how hard it had been for him. Even this was him trying to show Ste how far he'd come; spending time with Brendan's kids, Brendan out to both of them, holding hands in public, not a flicker of denial in him. Was it a relationship? A real one? At last?

But he couldn't just trust Brendan after everything, just because a psycho had kidnapped him and they'd survived.

There was something Brendan could do to show Ste this was real though.

"Tell Cheryl," he said suddenly.

"What?" Brendan had clearly been on other thoughts.

"Tell Cheryl the truth about what happened. About your Dad."

Brendan groaned, "Steven…"

Ste pulled his hand out of his. "I can't carry on like this Brendan, with everyone thinking I'm some sort of disgusting, attention seeking liar. And if you're serious about being with me properly, you can't either. Think about it, what's Cheryl gonna say when she sees us together? If she still thinks I lied, she's gonna hate you too, just for being with me!"

He could see Brendan considering the point. It was a strong one.

"And then all she'll have is him, whispering his disgusting poison, playing the innocent. Is that you want for her?"

He let Brendan think for a minute before he added the final blow.

"It's the only way I can let you near me."

They'd stopped walking, and were staring at each other. A passing old couple tutted them as they had to tug their dog around them.

"Her Dad's just been shot, Steven. I can't just dump this on her as well."

Ste hadn't believed he'd be able to cry again so soon after everything, but he felt the sting. "There's always gonna be something, isn't there? A reason to keep me on a string. You don't want me Brendan, you just want to control me, for when it suits you! At least your Dad was honest about that." Ste rubbed his face furiously, "I'll go and look for a bus."

He turned but a hand on his arm stopped him. He sighed, "I can't do it any more Brendan," he said, but no reply came. He glanced back at him, but realised Brendan wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Declan, who was no longer teasing Paddy (the younger boy having discovered another bored looking kid scrambling over the rocks) and was glaring at his father with his arms folded.

"Did you tell Declan?" Ste asked, surprised, unable to think of another explanation for that look.

"A PG version," Brendan replied, digging in his pocket. He brought out his phone and looked at it. Then, moving his grip down to Ste's hand, he walked them both over to a suitable rock to sit on. He kept hold of Ste's hand for the whole phone call.

"Hi Cheryl. Yeah… yeah… yeah… yes, alright, just hush a minute, will ye? There's something I need to tell ye…"


	23. Chapter 23

__**AN: Thanks again for the lovely reviews. Penultimate chapter. Probably**

_**One month later**_

Ste stared at the key in his hand. It felt so odd, so strange. But his instructions were clear; Use the key and walk straight into the flat. So why was he so hesitant?

It was silly really. He'd been here loads of times. But not really by himself, even for five minutes. He took a breath to encourage himself, and then opened the door.

The flat was dark and quiet inside; Brendan was at work, Lynsey had gone out with a gang of girls like Jacqui McQueen and Nancy Osborne, and Cheryl was in Belfast with her mother. Ste switched on a light and closed the door carefully behind him.

Brendan's place was dead nice. It always had been, though Ste guessed that was really the girl's influence.

Brendan had sworn he'd only be an hour. He'd promised not to stay a moment after he'd got everyone out of the club and that then they'd get the whole night together. Part of Ste worried that Brendan was falling back into old habits, and just didn't want him waiting at the club, where people might see them together. But there was always going to be moments like that, when Brendan quivered his resolve, when he got scared, and Ste needed to recognise them and prioritise to what to make a fuss about. After all, Brendan might have been trying to be thoughtful; the key (Ste's own new key to Brendan's home) was definitely thoughtful, and it hadn't been fun to sit at a barstool for fifty minutes, waiting for a hundred rowdy drunks to get on their way. That had been bad enough when he'd been paid to do it.

So today, after finishing that annoying hour or so before Brendan, he'd gone to the club to wait, only to be surprised by a key. He hadn't really known how to take it.

He sat at the table awkwardly, wondering what he should do now. He tapped his leg for a while and then stood up and put the kettle on.

Suddenly a woman's voice from behind him screeched "What do you want?"

Ste dropped the kettle, feeling his heart pound in surprise. The whole place had seemed so quiet. He spun round to see Cheryl in a fluffy dressing gown, wielding an unplugged lamp as though it were an offensive weapon.

Ste paled. "I'm sorry, Brendan gave me a key, said to come over and wait for him."

"Oh," she replied, "I didn't recognise you."

"He didn't say you'd be here, or I'd have…"

What? Knocked? Not come? He didn't know.

"Yeah, course," Cheryl replied, as though this were a normal conversation.

There was what felt like an age of painful silence. Ste picked up the kettle and put it back, hoping it wasn't broken. Cheryl put the lamp down on the side. Still they stood, silent.

Eventually, Cheryl started. "So, where's Brendan?"

"Erm, at the club. He said to let myself in; he'd only be like half an hour."

Cheryl caught that, "Let yourself in?"

"Er, yeah, he gave me a key. Today."

"Oh, right." Cheryl did not sound impressed at that.

Ste wondered if he should offer it back, it was Cheryl's place before Brendan's, but he didn't know how to even start that conversation. A further strange, awkward silence fell over them, and it felt almost painful to Ste, but he had no clue what to say.

Eventually, he found words

"So, when did you get back?"

"A few hours ago," Cheryl replied, nodding.

"Right," said Ste, nodding back.

Cheryl sighed. "My Ma's in a right state, over all this."

Ste felt that as a dig, being blamed, "What? Do you want me to apologise?"

"No, I didn't mean…" Cheryl stopped again. "I'm not blaming you, love, it's just…. It's like my family's been torn apart. 'Like' I say. It has been, hasn't it?"

It had. "I'll go," Ste said, quickly.

"No, Ste," Cheryl protested, "I don't mean… I don't blame you."

"Well that's new," Ste returned, unable to keep the bitterness out of his mind or voice.

Cheryl looked miserable, but didn't seem able to apologise. Ste wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because to apologise would be to accept responsibility for her father, which would be grossly unfair, or maybe it was because none of it was actually her fault; she behaved as you would expect someone with that belief to behave. Or maybe it was simply because she didn't feel sorry.

Instead she started crying.

Ste hovered awkwardly. Was it the right thing to do to comfort her? He really wasn't sure.

"Er, do you want me to go?" he asked.

Cheryl laughed through her tears. "Men!" she exclaimed, "You're all scared of a few tears aren't you?"

"Er…"

"You think if a woman starts to cry, she's breaking. That's not true you know."

Ste remembered all the crying he'd done recently, "No we don't."

Cheryl sighed. "Ste, can I ask you something?"

"I suppose," Ste replied, dreading what could only be a difficult question

"Why did you take Brendan back?"

It sounded quite reproachful, but Ste realised he might have imagined that part. He decided to be as honest as he could. "Because I love him." He hoped that would be enough.

"So, it's not some deal? Like you let him… you know… and he … I don't know, stops me telling people."

Ste stared at her. "Cheryl…" he was at a loss for words.

"Because… it can't be true!" Her face was desperate, like Ste's answer could throw the whole word into hell. And Ste couldn't help be offended.

"Cheryl, what are you accusing me of?"

"What are you accusing my father of?"

"What he did, Cheryl!" he shouted.

"Well, I've still only got your word for that."

"And Brendan's."

"Oh, aye, Brendan believes you. But he's hardly impartial is he?"

"You mean, he knows your Dad better than you."

That was a low blow, and the moment it came out of Ste's mouth, he felt guilty. But it was true, and he couldn't take it back now.

"I don't believe it!" Cheryl hissed, and Ste suddenly realised what was making her so volatile.

"You do, though, don't ya, or you wouldn't be having this conversation."

Cheryl broke into fresh tears.

"He's my Dad, Ste."

Ste nodded, "I know," but he couldn't really understand. He wouldn't be surprised by much Terry did, and his own father was a mystery to him that he'd never really dared look into.

"My Ma, she's in bits over what happened to him, and she can't understand why Brendan won't come or let the boys see him, and no one will talk honestly to her. She thinks you've warped Brendan's mind. That the devil sent you to destroy her family. And for a while, I wanted to believe that too." She looked at Ste. She was being completely honest with him, and Ste didn't know if he could deal with it. "But I find it hard to believe that Brendan has been tricked by you. I find it hard to believe Brendan could be tricked by anyone."

"I'm not lying."

Cheryl nodded. "Ok. But could it… could it have been a mistake?"

That was clutching at straws. "No. It definitely wasn't a mistake," Ste said, eyeing the door in case she asked for a blow by blow description to prove that. But she didn't. She just sank into a chair and looked broken. After a few moments, Ste went back to filling the kettle just for something to do.

"So … why are you still with Brendan?"

Ste finished with the kettle before he answered. He needed to take the time. "Because I love him, and he loves me. And he ain't his Dad. And he did the right thing in the end."

"But he did lie about what happened. He betrayed you."

Ste paused again. He wasn't really sure of the answer to that himself.

"It wasn't a lie exactly. It's not like he saw it. Not really. And he only really did it to protect you."

"Protect me?"

"He thought that if you didn't know, you could keep your Dad. He didn't want to hurt you. He never wanted me to go to the police for the same reason."

Cheryl sighed. "That sounds like Brendan. You know, he thinks we're made of glass. Women, I mean. One fall and we won't get up again." She sighed heavily. "When he came out, I thought it was connected, that fear for women's safety and wanting to sleep with men. But then I thought, no, he just get's it from Dad, because Dad's the same you know. He'd do anything to protect me and Ma. Anything. And he has done so much for both of us. But maybe I was more right than I thought."

"Maybe," Ste said, and the silence came back. Ste made tea for both of them, and Cheryl thanked him and took it up to bed, leaving him alone and waiting again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Final chapter. **

Ste was woken by a light, ticklish sensation on his neck. He fidgeted a little and tried to wipe whatever it was away, but it simply returned, this time slightly closer to his face. He could feel it climbing up and across his check, and had figured out what it was by the time it found his mouth, where it latched with a real satisfaction.

Ste moaned happily into Brendan's mouth and smiled.

"Evening, Steven," greeted Brendan, grinning.

Ste sat up on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep. "What time is it?"

"About half two," Brendan replied, "I decided I'd only wake you if kissing you woke you. Lucky me, eh?" He grinned and kissed Ste again, pushing him back down onto the sofa, and eliciting groans from them both. It took a huge amount of will power for Ste to stop the more than welcome onslaught.

"We can't do it here," he groaned.

"Course we can," said Brendan, reattaching his lips to Ste's and tasting like heaven and whiskey.

"No," Ste managed to protest, "Cheryl's back. She's upstairs!"

That stopped Brendan. He straightened up and glanced at the ceilings as though expecting to see her through it.

"Did she talk to you?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit," Ste answered.

"Is she… did she take it out on you?"

"Not really. She just wants it all not to be true."

Brendan sighed and slumped down onto the sofa next to Ste. "I didn't know she'd be here or I wouldn't have…" He trailed off.

"Yeah," said Ste. Course not.

"Hey," Brendan said, "don't go all puppy sad eyes on me. I just mean I'd want to be here to stop a fight, yeah?"

Ste sighed, "Yeah, I know," and he rested his head on Brendan's shoulder.

Brendan sighed too. "Did she say anything about… about Maggie or…?"

"Brendan, you're allowed to care if he's alive or dead."

Brendan coughed. "Well, is he?"

"No," Ste sighed, "I don't think so, but we didn't really talk about him."

"What happened then?"

"Your step-mum thinks the devil sent me," Ste said forlornly.

Brendan laughed.

"It's not funny!" Ste exclaimed, struggling to keep the grin from his face.

Brendan didn't stop laughing, and Ste found himself joining in. Brendan's genuine laughter was so rare, and Ste allowed himself to enjoy it until the temptation to kiss him got too strong and he brought their lips together again. The kiss deepened and deepened until they were both panting with need, and Brendan said "Never mind Maggie, I think the devil sent ye. That kiss was sinful!"

Ste grinned, "I think that's the other way round actually. I was a good boy before I met you. Well, sort of. I was getting there."

Brendan actually looked proud at the idea. "Come on," he grinned, "I'll teach you some more wicked things we could try." He took Ste's hand and pulled them both off the sofa then grasped Ste's waist and pulled them even closer where they stood and kissed him deeply yet again. Ste wound his arms around Brendan's neck and buried his fingers in the dark hair he found there. He felt Brendan's hands sliding downwards from his waist and over his bum, and thrilled at the obvious pleasure Ste found in the feel of him, letting himself mould his body to that of his lover.

Brendan's hands sneaked lower still until they were at the top of Ste's thighs; on odd place to put them, Ste thought, until he felt the hands tug at his legs and lift them clear off the ground.

"Brendan!" he screeched as he kicked at the ground with his toes.

"What? I thought that would be dead romantic," Brendan said in his sexiest growl, but having to let Ste down.

"But I wasn't expecting it, was I? Anyway, you'll hurt yourself if you pick me up!"

Brendan snorted. "Hurt myself? Picking up a skinny bag of bones like you? Have you not seen my muscles Steven?"

He advanced on Ste, who believed that at any moment Brendan was going to prove his strength and back away. "You can't!" Ste insisted, backing into the wall.

"That sounds like a dare to me, Steven," Brendan growled, and as Ste's back hit the wall, he trapped him there with an arm on each side of him.

"Brendan!" Warned Ste, but he felt hands on his legs again, and knowing what was coming he pushed his back against the wall and his arms around Brendan's shoulders to cling on.

Brendan smirked as he wrapped Ste's legs around his waist, and took the excuse of better stability to grab Ste's bum, firmly. "See?" he said, "I'm very manly!"

Ste laughed, and allowed himself to be snogged and groped with delight, while he used his legs to pull their groins even closer, pulling groans from both of them.

"Is that you, Brendan?" called a voice from upstairs, surprising them both, and if Ste hadn't been clinging so hard, he would have fallen to the ground. Cheryl's foot hit the bottom step in time to see Ste awkwardly sliding to the floor. "Oh, sorry," she said.

"No, we should have gone into the bedroom, sorry," said Ste.

"Is there something you wanted, Chez?" asked Brendan, not the least bit sorry.

"Well… I was hoping to talk to you about… well… you know," it had to be bad when Cheryl got tongue tied.

"Actually, Cheryl, this isn't a good time," Brendan muttered, his arm possessively worming around Ste's waist.

"Ey, don't be like that, Bren, she's your sister," Ste protested, despite cheering that Brendan was putting him first. Well, putting shagging him first, but still an important shift in Ste's mind. "Look, I'll go and wait for you in your room. Cheryl needs ya."

Cheryl looked embarrassed, but Brendan kissed Ste on the forehead. "Thank you," he whispered, and Ste wandered up to Brendan's room, and perched on the bed, where he swung his feet for a little while.

Then he got bored and listened to the Brady conversation.

"But Brendan," Cheryl was saying, "Dad swears blind he never laid a finger on him. Why are you so sure Ste's not lying?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Chez."

"The truth Brendan!"

"About who? Steven or Dad?" There was more aggression in Brendan's voice than Ste had ever heard him use to his sister before. It had nothing on Brendan at his scariest, though, and did little but spark a defensive aggression in Cheryl too.

"Both!" she replied, angrily.

"Won't you just… just believe Chez?" he demanded.

"No, Brendan. Either you're lying to me now, or you've been lying to me for months, so no, I can't just believe you anymore."

"I never… I never lied, Cheryl, I just… wanted to protect you."

"So… so you really are saying that our Dad is capable of …. of….that? And of men too?"

"Yes, Cheryl," sighed Brendan, and Ste could imagine him with his head in his hands, "I'm sorry you had to find out."

"But how can you be sure Ste isn't lying?"

"Because…" Brendan hesitated, and Ste wondered if he was going to tell Cheryl about his own history with his father. "Because Steven wouldn't lie about this," he finished.

"But it doesn't make sense! If Dad really did… that… then why would Ste want anything to do with our family? Let alone let you anywhere near him?"

Brendan was silent for a moment and Cheryl took that as a victory.

"See?" she almost shouted, so relieved that she'd found a hole in the argument, "he's just up to something. He wants something and he's lying so…"

"Like what, Cheryl? What could he possibly want that this would get him? I don't really know why Steven doesn't tell me to leave him alone, but you know what? I thank God every day since he let me back in, because I cannot live without him. I love him Cheryl, I am in love with him and I always will be. All I can do is hope that he feels the same way."

Ste realised he was smiling.

"But…" Cheryl tried.

"But nothing Cheryl," Brendan interrupted, "If you want to believe Dad's lies, that's your lookout, I won't blame you, I never wanted you to lose the father you knew, and he always loved you, but if he comes near Steven again, I will kill him. You have no idea what I can and will do to protect Steven, and nothing's gonna change that, not Dad, not you, not Eileen. Now, the man I love is waiting in my bedroom, and I'm not going to do anything else that might jeopardise our relationship. Good night, Cheryl."

Ste heard his lover's footsteps approaching the bedroom, and wondered if he should pretend he hadn't been listening to the conversation. But there was little he could do to get the grin off his face anyway, and the moment Brendan stepped through the door, he pounced, springing into his arms, and kissing him.

After a few moments, he realised that his feet weren't on the floor, so he wrapped his legs around Brendan's waist without breaking the kiss for a moment.

A few glorious moments after that Brendan pulled away and said "Jesus, you're heavy," and dropped him on the bed. Ste laughed aloud and tugged Brendan down by the shirt until he was lying on top of him, kissing like they'd never get enough of each other. Brendan pulled away again and said "I think someone was listening."

"No," Ste lied. Brendan smirked and kissed him again, pulling Ste's hands from around his neck and holding them in his own on either side of Ste's head.

"Steven," he growled, holding those hands firmly, and moving his head frustratingly out of Ste's reach,

Brendan gazed down at him, entranced. Ste felt it too; like they were finally stepping into a new life. They had found a chance at happiness and it was some sort of miracle that they had to grab with both hands. There was trust suddenly. Maybe it had come from Brendan finally doing the right thing. Maybe from his declarations to Cheryl. Possibly because Ste had chosen to forgive him. Ste suddenly felt very, very happy.

"You know that thing?" he asked.

"What thing?" asked Brendan.

"That thing you keep asking," Ste tried.

"What thing?" Brendan repeated, frowning.

"You know, that thing you've been asking ever since we got back together, and I kept saying no, 'cause I wasn't ready?"

"Oh, that thing," Brendan smirked.

"Right, well you know how I trust ye? And you just told Cheryl everything and about how much you love me?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you really not see where this I'm going with this?"

Brendan smirked again. "Spell it out for me Steven."

Cheeky bugger, Ste thought.

"Well, maybe… you should try asking me again?" He bit his lip and looked at Brendan through his eyelashes.

Brendan smirked, transferring his grip to Ste's wrist, and kissing him again.

"Steven," he growled, and Ste felt his stomach knot in excitement. "Will you let me tie ye to the bed?"

Ste grinned.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks again for all the lovely comments. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing. <strong>

**There is a third part to this trilogy available - It's called Like Father, Like Son, and you can find it on my profile (by clicking on my name above).**


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